It was a little late for that, but—
“I’m sure.”
And he was sure, more sure than he’d been of anything in a long time.
He could do this. He could keep Shiraz Bistro going, could make it better than ever.
With David’s help, but still.
“Proud of you, baba,” Firouz said, clapping Farzan’s shoulder. “You’ll do great.”
Farzan couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually made his father proud. Warmth bubbled up in his chest, pushing away the nerves that had settled over him after signing the contract.
It was all on him now.
But his dad was finally proud of him. He intended to keep it that way.
The Costco parking lot was a zoo. Why had everyone decided to go to Costco at noon on a Friday?
Farzan’s car was filled to the brim with paper towels, toilet paper, and soap. Of all the things his parents had neglected to mention about running the bistro—that one electrical outlet that constantly threw the breaker, the correct color of paint to touch up the walls, the need tooccasionally bribe their produce guy with kabobs—the bathrooms had to be the most alarming. How could a restaurant with three unisex stalls go through so much toilet paper in a single week?
He grunted, leaning his weight on the trunk to get it to close. Well, at least that was done. Now he just had to do… about a dozen other things before service tonight. It was fine.
Except as soon as he dropped into his seat, his phone rang. Maheen was FaceTiming him.
“Hello?”
“Help. Me,” Maheen said through gritted teeth.
“What’s wrong?” Farzan’s heart immediately lodged itself in his threat. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.” She flipped her camera to show her kitchen table, covered with flour and bowls of almonds and baking sheets. “Help.”
“What are you trying to make?” Farzan asked, trying to get his hammering heart under control.
“I promised to bring qottab to Elaina’s baby shower.” Elaina was Tomás’s eldest sister. “And it’s tomorrow.”
Farzan sighed. Qottab were time-consuming and, though he would never say it out loud, beyond Maheen’s baking skills.
But his sister needed help.
“I’ll be right there.”
twenty-three
Farzan
Maheen and Tomás lived in a nice house out in Leawood, an overpriced suburb in Johnson County, Kansas. Farzan had never understood why his sister chose to cross State Line. The rest of the Alavis were all in Missouri.
He pulled up to the curb, shot off a text to Sheena to let her know he’d be late getting to the bistro, and let himself inside.
“Help. Me,” Maheen repeated. She was seated at the table, her hands in a bowl of almonds soaking in water. As he watched, she picked an almond out and peeled off its skin.
Farzan stifled a laugh.
“You bought whole ones?”
“I thought it would be easier,” she said, as Farzan kissed her cheek and took another seat.
