THEENGINEOFthe ’89 Honda Civic didn’t exactly purr, but to Sam, it was the sweet sound of hard work paying off. He had saved up for this car and he loved everything about it, from the powder blue color to the hatchback trunk. He didn’t even care that the passenger-side door occasionally stuck. It was nearly seven years old, but the previous owner had cared for it, so the car ran beautifully.
The clock said 6:55 p.m. when he stepped out of the car and gently closed the door, looking up at Maya’s uncle’s house. A wraparound front porch with a swing, chipping white paint and a fairly well-cared-for lawn. He absently patted the car, as if it were doling out confidence, before approaching the two steps to the front porch. He fingered the coin in his pocket while he rang the bell.
The sound of giggling reached him from behind the door. A teenage girl with a lovely smile and bronze skin opened the door and continued giggling, stopping only when she introduced herself. “I’m Sejal, Maya’s cousin,” she said gesturing for him to come in.
Sam startled at his own reflection in an ornate hall mirror and quickly shifted his gaze to a pink-walled dining room to his left. A pink tablecloth covered the table, and in the center was a stainless steel tray holding two small jars. It looked just like the one his mother left on their dining table. The jars were home to spicy lime or sweet mango pickles that everyone had with every meal.
His attention was diverted back to the giggling girl as she called out. “Maya! He’s hee-ere!” The young girl stood and watched him, her eyes sparkling with delight, but there was no sign of Maya.
Sam was starting to sweat when a stern-looking man, old enough to be his father, ambled into the hallway. The man looked Sam up and down with suspicious, bulging, black eyes. After seeming to determine that it was safe, he thrust out his hand. “Deepak Shah. I am Maya’s uncle.” His Indian accent was mild, and his tone was firm and decidedly unfriendly. “Her mother is my elder sister.”
Sam clasped the man’s hand firmly and smiled, hoping that his hand was dry. “Sam Hutcherson, sir. Nice to meet you.”
The older man grunted. “Hutcherson?” He seemed to repress a smile. “Not John, is it?” He placed a brown hand on his healthy belly. “You are notDr.John Hutcherson’s son?”
Sam shifted his weight. Where was Maya? “Yes, sir, I am. I believe you might also know my uncle, Sudhir Mehta?”
This time, the uncle’s smile made a small appearance, and then disappeared behind another grunt. “Of course, I know Sudhir.” He did not elaborate. Endless silence floated between them, making Sam’s stomach clench. The uncle continued his assessing stare.
The familiar aroma of onions and garlic sautéing with mustard seeds and cumin reached him from just beyond the pink room, and calmed him enough to break the silence. “Are you also an internist, sir?”
The older man grunted. “Cardiology.”
Great.He’d just borderline insulted the man.Sam turned to the cousin. “What high school do you go to?”
She giggled again, but she obliged. “Wilde Lake.”
“Oh yeah? I graduated—”
Apparently, knowing where Sam had graduated high school was not at the top of Deepak Shah’s priorities, as he chose that moment to bellow, “Maya!”
A breathless Maya came bustling out of the kitchen and into the foyer. “Hi!” Her cheeks were flushed in a most pleasing manner. Sam had to stop himself from staring.
“Sorry,” she said, apology in her eyes, “but all of a sudden, my aunt ‘happened to need’ my baking expertise.” She made air quotes and cast an accusing glance at her uncle. “Know anything about that, Deepak-mama?”
Deepak looked slightly abashed and his demeanor softened. “Truthfully, my sister is very intimidating, and if I am to allow you to go—” he jerked his head in Sam’s direction “—I need to check him out, no? You are like a daughter to me, beta, after all.” He shrugged slightly. “I know his father and his uncle. They are good people.” He put his arm around Maya and gave her an affectionate squeeze. “Go, if you must.” He looked at Sam and pointed a firm finger. “Midnight.”
“Yes, sir.” Sam intended to make the most of the next five hours.
Ten minutes later, they were still laughing at Deepak-mama’s strictness, and his fear of Maya’s mother as they pulled into the crowded lot at the movie theater. “My mom is a force—so if you turn out to be a serial killer—she’ll blame Deepak-mama for not properly researching you.”
“Well, I’m not a serial killer, so your mama is safe.”
“Isn’t that what all serial killers say?”
She was smart and funny. Sure that his grin was idiotic, he changed the subject. “How aboutMission: Impossible? I haven’t had a chance to see it.”
“I saw it.” Her eyes lit up. “Tom Cruise was amazing. Sorry.” She didn’t sound apologetic. She laughed.
“How aboutDragonheart? Can’t go wrong with Sean Connery.”
“But how about actually seeing Sean Connery, as opposed to just hearing him? As inThe Rock?”
“You like the blow-up-stuff movies, huh?” A girl who shared his action-movie obsession? Sam bit the inside of his cheek to contain his excitement. He opened his door then turned back to her. “Don’t move.”
Sam hopped out of the car and in a few strides was on Maya’s side. She shrugged as he opened her door. “I like all kinds of movies.” Her nose wrinkled adorably when she smiled, and her mouth turned up just a little bit more on one side than the other.
When she stood he noticed, as he had before, that she needed to tilt her chin up to look at him.
