Katrina smiled. “I did enjoy it. I don’t have anything like that documenting my family.”
Daisy helped herself to more potatoes. She’d worked for the family for almost twenty years and had always eaten with them. “No photos, no records?”
Katrina shook her head. “No. I was an only child and my mom died when I was nine. I don’t know my extended family on her side.”
“And your father?”
Jas cleared his throat and tried to catch the housekeeper’s eye. This was smacking of a gentle interrogation, a motherly prying, possibly since his own meddling mother wasn’t in town and present at the table. Daisy purposefully ignored him.
Katrina lifted a shoulder. “No, we’re not close.”
“It happens that way sometimes,” Daisy said comfortingly. “Do you want some more rotis?”
“No, thank you.”
“Please, you barely ate.”
“I’m truly stuffed.”
“Welcome to my house,” Jas couldn’t help but say. “Daisy loves to make sure we eat until we burst.”
Katrina shot him a small grin, and it distracted him so much he almost missed the clatter of Daisy dropping her spoon on her plate. “Excuse me,” she said, and sniffed. Her eyes were bright. “I’m so glad you brought Katrina here, dear. To your house. Will you be bringing her to the parade as well?”
“No.”
Daisy’s face fell, and his grandpa scowled.
Great. It had been a peaceful dinner for as long as it lasted.
Katrina placed her napkin next to her plate. Daisy was right, she really hadn’t eaten much, just pushed her food around her plate to make it seem like she had. If she wasn’t careful, Daisy would grab her utensil and start making airplane noises. The woman was serious about making sure her charges were well-fed. “What parade?” Katrina asked.
Daisy leaned forward. “Every year we have a festival and parade here in town. It used to be a local event, but now tens of thousands of Sikhs come from all over the world. This year, Andrés is being honored for his charitable work and contributions to the community. It’s in a couple weeks. We would love for you to come.”
“Congratulations, Andrés. Unfortunately, I’ll probably be back home by then.”
“You are coming, at least,” Andrés said to Jas.
“I have to work.”
Bikram shot Katrina a speculative look, and Jas hastily corrected himself. Maybe he did use Katrina as an excuse far more than he realized. “I mean, I can’t come.”
Katrina’s brow creased. “You don’t need to work then. Go to the parade.”
He couldn’t. He simplycouldn’tgo to the parade. He stabbed a piece of cauliflower and ate it, though it tasted like ashes. “No.”
Andrés’s face tightened. “The whole community will be there. How will it look if my own grandson doesn’t attend?”
The knot in his stomach grew tighter. “Tell everyone I have to work.”
“Your boss gave you the night off.” Andrés pointed at Katrina. “You’re coming.”
Something in his brain always short-circuited when his grandfather used that tone. All he wanted was to do the opposite of what the man decreed. This time, though, he literally couldn’t comply with his grandpa’s orders. “I can’t.”
“You will.”
“No.”
Andrés slammed his fist on the table, rattling the dishes. “Damn it, Jasvinder, you will—”
