Aarthi didn’t bat an eye. “Craspedia. Otherwise known as Billy Balls.”
Damn it, Sejal had no idea if that was correct or not, but it did sound right.
Aarthi bustled around the kitchen, washing the veggies in a big bowl. Sejal placed her mug on the counter. In this case, she’d even commit the cardinal guest sin of not washing dishes and leaving. “I’ll head—”
“Would you like to make some chai for us while I cook?”
Oh dear. It was an easy enough ask, but not to Sejal. “I already have some tea.”
Aarthi wrinkled her nose at Sejal’s cup of water and a tea bag. “You can’t possibly prefer that to proper chai. Come, the pot is over there.”
Sejal looked at the well-used clean pot already set out on the stove. So easy. If only she had her phone with her. She could have run to the bathroom, googled the instructions, then run back and faked it. “I actually don’t know how to make chai,” she admitted.
Aarthi shut off the faucet. “Your mother didn’t teach you?”
Sejal tightened her fingers around her sad tea. “No. She... she died when I was young.” She didn’t consider that a lie. For all intents and purposes, her mom had been dead to her for years.
If Sejal had thought a dead mom would shut Aarthi up, she was disappointed. The older woman merely tsked and brought the bowl of veggies to the big butcher cutting block next to the stove. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Well, come, I’ll teach you. Get the milk from the fridge.” She tilted her head toward the cabinets. “The chai is in there. You can use the premade masala. It’s not ideal, but it’ll do in a pinch.” Aarthi picked the largest knife from the block and examined it in the light.
Sejal checked outside, but Krish was sadly not galloping to herrescue. Slowly, she moved to the cabinet Aarthi had indicated and pulled out the containers of tea, sugar, and masala.
“That must have been hard, losing your mom at a young age.”
Sejal tried to lower her shoulders, but her traps were engaged. “It wasn’t easy, but I didn’t know any different.”
“Put half water, and half milk in the pot. You remember her?”
Sejal dutifully got the milk out of the fridge. “No, not really.”
“What about your father?” Aarthi asked, concern dripping off her words and onto the cauliflower as she hacked off its stem.
Vassar was a con man who was always chasing the next big fortune, and his only use for his daughters was to turn us into his little criminal protégées.“He wasn’t around much. And when he was, he wasn’t very into cooking for us.” Or cleaning. Or signing their permission slips.
Actually, Sejal wasn’t sure why he’d even kept her and Mira after their mother left. He could have ditched them, too, and let them go into foster care.
She turned on the stove and placed the pot full of liquid on top of the burner.
“Oh, dear. I’m so sorry.” Aarthi’s tone was sympathetic, but her shoulders were relaxed as she broke up the cauliflower florets. Actually, she looked way less stressed than she had this morning. What had changed? If anything, Sejal had expected her to be more uptight, given where they’d left their conversation earlier.
Maybe she really is just a florist.
Sejal watched the light gleam on the knife Aarthi was expertly handling. Ha. Not a chance.
“Who raised you, if you don’t mind my asking. Aunts, uncles?”
“I raised myself,” Sejal murmured. “We had an aunt, but she was also not very... present.” Though it had been great when she was.Auntie Rhea had swept into their lives every few months and taken over all the chores and responsibilities and regaled them with tales about saving the world via a nonprofit that had never existed. For at least a week when she’d visited, Sejal hadn’t had to worry about what she would feed Mira or taking her to Brownie meetings. She’d had someone who made them delicious food, not the chicken nuggets they subsisted on, and asked her if she’d done her homework.
“We?”
“My younger sister and I.”
“I see. A younger sister. You’re like Krish, the eldest sibling.” Aarthi’s smile was tighter. “He adores his younger brother, always has. I’m sure you’re close to your sister, too.”
The brother.Gosh, she wished she’d won that second game of cards, because she’d like to know more about this little brother. If only this wasn’t an impersonal safe house, so she could actually see photos of the guy. “Yes.”
“Is the water boiling? Put in two scoops of tea, and then the masala and sugar. And what does your sister do?” Aarthi moved the chopped-up cauliflower to a bowl and started in on the carrots.
“She’s an accountant. She went to USC.” The pride in Sejal’s voice was natural, despite the fact that she and Mira didn’t speak. She’d always been proud of what her sister had accomplished. No one knew better than Sejal how hard it was to escape from a dysfunctional family. That Mira had busted free was amazing.
