Chapter 7
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Ten different breakfast stations were in full swing the next morning. The air was thick with the smell of fried bread, mangoes, and sugary masala chai. Kids splashed in the infinity pool outside, their shrieks echoing off the glass wall.
Relatives and family friends clutched their plates and milled around the continental bar filled with fruit and fresh-baked pastries set beside artisanal jams. Reza was at the halwa puri station toward the back.
Courtney joined him. She gave him a conspiratorial smile and drew close, her mouth brushing his ear. Whatever she whispered made him laugh.
Hena kept moving. Past the omelet station, where two chefs cracked eggs without glancing up.
Past the waffle bar with freshly prepared Madagascar whipped cream and sprinkles set in crystal bowls for the little ones.
She grabbed a croissant from the pastry tower and carried it to the coffee counter, raising her eyebrows at the familiar dark-haired man behind it.
“You ferry luggage, fix fondue stations, and make coffee?” she asked him.
“I’m a jack-of-all-trades,” he told her. “And dare I say, I make a mean latte.”
Indeed, his creation was lovely, finished with a perfectly swirled foam leaf. She thanked him and took the cup, the warmth seeping into her palm as she studied the crowd.
One of you fuckers slipped that note into my purse.
But who?
She had stared at the note so long, it felt etched into her mind’s eye. But the messy handwriting from the bleeding pen gave nothing away.
Who even used the word slut anymore? Some auntie catching up on the trending misogynist vocabulary of the nineties?
Auntie Hanifa and Auntie Nipa were nestled toward the back, deep in conversation.
They were the most obvious culprits. One of them had surely left the “missing husband” remark in Lulu’s advice book.
But that note had been written for public flogging.
Why would either of them bother sneaking her a message when they could just as easily say it to her face?
She turned her head. Another auntie was staring. Their eyes met; the woman quickly looked away. Hena exhaled slowly. If she were to suspect anyone who cast a wary glance her way, then nearly everyone here was a suspect.
It would help if she knew what the note referred to. Was she a slut for the rumored California abortion? Had someone seen her talking with Haris yesterday and jumped to conclusions? Even a simple chat and a hug could be enough for imaginations to run wild.
Or did someone know she and Reza had hung out in her suite after the welcome party?
No. They could speculate, sure, but no one could know. Even if someone had spotted him heading toward the elevators, the VIP tower had six suites, including the one where Khaled—his friend—was staying.
She should probably tell Lulu about the note, but she wanted to avoid adding stress to her sister’s week. Besides, she already knew the reason behind it. Someone wanted to mess with her. To remind her she wasn’t welcome.
The best response was no response.
Lulu walked over wearing an embroidered kamiz with delicate flowers stitched along the collar. Hena’s heart lifted. The necklace she had gifted her sister rested perfectly against her collarbone.
Lulu nodded at her plate. “That’s all you’re having?”
“Don’t go all auntie on me now,” Hena teased. “What about you? I don’t see you eating.”
“We had a food situation,” Lulu said. “The chef we hired for the halwa puri station brought in an assortment of nuts for garnish. Almonds, cashews, pistachios, you name it.”
Hena’s eyes sprang wide. Lulu had a severe nut allergy. “That’s a serious fuckup.”
“I’m staying far from the kitchen and the food stations until it’s all decontaminated,” she said. “It’s fine. I’ve been living off my protein shakes anyway. At least now Ammi can’t give me grief for not eating a well-balanced meal.”
At the mention of their mother, Hena looked around. Ammi wasn’t here. Again. Lulu caught Hena’s expression.
“She had a rough night,” Lulu explained. “We insisted she get some rest so she’ll have the energy to attend tonight.”
“Can I stop by the room in a little bit to check on her?”
Lulu frowned. “Why would you ask? She’s your mother as much as she’s mine.”
Lulu didn’t understand. She couldn’t. They were raised by the same woman, but they had different mothers. Hena had been the child who happened to come along. Lulu was the daughter her mother had dreamed of.
Lulu pulled out a key card from her purse and handed it to Hena. “She’d love to see you. Don’t worry, you have time. The airboat tour isn’t for another few hours.”
“Lulu, do I have to?” Hena groaned. “They look so noisy.”
“This one isn’t!” Lulu brightened. “Seriously. We partnered with Bob’s Airboats, and they’ve got great ratings—guaranteed alligator sightings, and they take you over to their own personal island, which the reviews say is nice as far as gator attractions go.
We contracted with them for their prototype electric boats.
They’re practically silent on the water.
I’d love your honest feedback before paying guests arrive. ”
“Lulu—”
“Think of it as your way of helping the family business. Carrying on our father’s legacy and all that.”
Hena’s stomach turned. Lulu was eight when their father died. A second grader whose biggest worry was figuring out how to tie her shoelaces. Hena and her mother had done everything they could to shield Lulu from the brunt of who he was, but was it possible Lulu didn’t remember anything?
Hena wasn’t about to poke this hornet’s nest now.
“Sounds good,” she said instead.
Her sister drifted off to attend to the other guests, and Hena sipped her coffee as Khaled, bleary-eyed, wandered to the juice bar and ordered a kale-and-carrot concoction.
Catching her eye, he gave her a wave. It occurred to her now that she had only exchanged a handful of words with the groom since she’d arrived.
“You holding up okay?” Hena asked, walking over to him.
“Barely.” He gave her a rueful smile. “It’s one thing to attend weddings like these, another to be one of the hosts, deciding between pastel blue linens or cerulean. I’m over it and we’re not even halfway through.”
“It’ll be done before you know it,” she said. “Then it’s Fiji for your honeymoon, right?”
“Yep. I told Lulu I want unstructured beach time and lots of naps. Nothing else.”
“Not sure Lulu will let that happen,” Hena said. “Knowing her, she’s got you scheduled for snorkeling as soon as you deplane.”
“You’re probably right.”
They both laughed as Reza joined them. He was in a plain gray T-shirt and dark jeans this morning, his hair damp.
“Did you find your watch?” Khaled asked him.
“Not in my room,” Reza said. “I’ll check with the front desk in case someone dropped it off.”
“Sounds like you guys had quite the night,” Hena observed.
“We were up past three.” Reza groaned. “I showered twice, but I still smell like smoke.”
Khaled’s mother drew him away to discuss the carnation lapels for the evening, and Hena and Reza stepped onto the side patio where a row of iguanas sunned themselves along the back wall, their slitted eyes following the two of them as they sat at a table.
“How’s your hand?” Hena asked Reza.
“Much better.” He held it out as if inviting her to take it. “You knew what you were doing.”
An announcement sounded overhead. Lucinda’s peppy voice informed guests that the shuttle for the Las Olas excursion would be departing in thirty minutes.
“There are so many events going on,” Hena said. “Even with the binder, I can’t keep track.”
“This week’s giving major summer camp vibes, isn’t it?” asked Reza. “There’s a seashell necklace class this afternoon. Seashells.”
“Well, sorry to disappoint you, but you won’t have time to make jewelry. The wedding party’s going on an airboat ride, remember? Explain to me how that falls under wedding party duties.”
“I’m kind of looking forward to it,” he admitted. “I’ve never been on one.”
“I haven’t either, but considering alligators are the main attraction, I’m not sure what there is to be excited about.”
“Are you scared of alligators?” He tilted his head.
“You’re not?” She folded her arms.
“Never met one I didn’t like.”
“How many have you met?”
“None,” he admitted. “At least, never up close and personal in their natural habitat.”
“Our family home backed up to a swamp,” she told him as a breeze fluttered the fronds of the palm trees. “I promise you, alligators are way more terrifying than jinn.”
He laughed at this, and her heart did a little flip. He was far too charming for this early in the morning. She really didn’t want to go on an airboat, but with Reza there, the prospect was suddenly a bit more attractive.
“Hena? Is that you?” a voice called out.
Her cousin Maheen strode toward them, her daughter wrapped in a striped beach towel.
“It’s great to see you! It’s been way too long!
” Maheen pulled her into a hug before Hena could reply.
“They canceled my flight twice. I told them, I’m a bridesmaid.
I literally arrived two hours ago. Oh, and the turbulence!
” She shuddered. “I threw up three times. You know how I am with anxiety. Anyway, look at you! I’ve missed you so much. How are you?”
Hena blinked as she tried to keep up with the torrent of words. Maheen’s chattiness was a sharp contrast to the coldness of everyone else.
“I’m good,” Hena said. “Did Inaya have fun at the pool?”
“I love the pool!” the little girl chirped.
“This is Auntie Hena,” Maheen told her. “You were a baby last time you saw her at—”
She cut off abruptly. Her face flushed over the words left unspoken.
The wedding.
“Inaya’s all grown up. And she’s beautiful,” Hena said. “The spitting image of you.”
“She’s the flower girl.” Maheen beamed.
Her daughter tugged at her arm. “Mommy! Look, bunny!” She pointed toward the boardwalk.
“Yes, honey.” Maheen cut Reza a look and brightened. “Well, hello.”
Hena introduced them. Maheen’s grin widened as her daughter yanked harder on her arm.