The older man continues to clean Meera’s desk, as though Talia hasn’t spoken. She knows Meera has a soft spot for him, what with their shared understanding of Tamil, but something about Aarav has always given Talia the creeps. She watches as he picks up the framed school photo of Gracie from Meera’s desk and stares at it for a beat too long before packing it in the box with the plant.
“Aarav?”
“She has let go,” he says, still avoiding her eye.
“She what?” For an awful moment, Talia thinks the custodian is telling her that Meera is dead, and the large Iced Turbo she chugged before Pilates churns sickeningly in her stomach.
“Shewaslet go.” This comes from David, whose desk is to the left of Meera’s. Talia neither dislikes nor particularly likes David, who’s efficient and competent but has a habit of crunching on pistachios all day and leaving the shells stacked on his desk.
Talia whirls to face him. “How do you know that?”
“I ran into her as she was leaving Betty’s office. She didn’t tell me much, other than the fact that she got suspended, but rumor has it she was misusing her access to customer data.” David raises his eyebrows. “I bet you know what happened.”
“I don’t,” she lies. The floor tilts beneath her, and she steadies herself on Meera’s desk. For all the nasty things Meera said to her during their argument last week, Talia knows she was just as cruel, if not crueler. This is worse than a Hashimoto’s flare-up; this is all her fault.
“For Meera.” From the corner of her eye, Talia sees Aarav offering her a folded piece of paper.
“This is for Meera? Did you find it on her desk?” Her brain pulses with a single thought, a reflex at this point:Amanda.
Aarav nods. Talia unfolds the paper slowly only to find that the note inside is written in what must be Tamil script. The letter is from Aarav, not Amanda, and Talia feels foolish for letting her neuroses get the better of her, if only for a second.
“For give to her,” Aarav says.
“Forgive her?” Talia wonders how Aarav could possibly know about their fight. Had he noticed the friction between them in the office? Then she repeats the sentence back to herself. “For give to her. You want me to give this to her.”
He nods again.
“I will,” she says. “I promise.” But as soon as Aarav returns to his office, Talia deposits the note in the box with the rest of Meera’s belongings. Meera isn’t going to want to see her, not after this. No doubt she’s going to cast blame on Talia, just as Malcolm Gray’s parents have done. And perhaps this time Talia deserves it.
Still, she can’t help but think,I never asked Meera to retrieve those messages. I never asked Meera to misuse her access to customer data.
Talia may look like the bad guy here, but one could argue that Meera brought this all upon herself.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Townsend
At Foothill Grille, the hostess leads him to Mother’s usual table, the same one she requested for his thirty-fourth birthday brunch. He finds her drinking a Tito’s greyhound, the Greek salad she’d ordered untouched.
“Mom.” He kisses her lightly on the cheek, which feels powdery and dry. “You’re looking well.”
Mother waves his compliment off and takes a sip of her drink. “You want something. That’s the only reason I hear from you. So what is it?”
It stings, hearing this from his mom. Not because it’s not true, but because he thought himself more artful than that. “I want to ask about Grandma Birdy’s ring. Her engagement ring.”
“Oh?”
“I want to know if I can have it.”
“And what are you going to do with it?”
Townsend grits his teeth. “I want to give it to Talia, Mom. I’m going to propose to her.”
“Did it occur to you that your sister might want Birdy’s ring?”
“I already talked to Blake. She doesn’t want it. She said she hates a marquise cut.”
Drawing her lips into a thin line, Mother says, “What a shame. I was hoping the ring would stay in the family.”
