Chapter 8
·
Lulu’s penthouse suite was silent when Hena stepped inside; the soft hum of the air-conditioning was the only sound.
Save the extra bedroom, the space was nearly identical to her own.
Same layout. Same maroon walls. Same brass fixtures.
Same stainless-steel kitchen—though Lulu’s currently had a stunning cream-colored five-tier wedding cake resting on its island.
Hena walked toward one of the bedrooms as Gita emerged from the bathroom, her hair wrapped in a towel. She startled at the sight of Hena.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Hena said. “I was checking in on my mother.”
“She actually just fell asleep,” Gita told her. “She had a rough night.”
“I’ll be quiet,” Hena promised. It wasn’t as though she’d come for a heart-to-heart. The truth was, her mother being asleep was probably for the best.
Gita pursed her lips but said nothing as Hena stepped into the bedroom.
This space, too, was an uncanny mirror to Hena’s own suite, except for one glaring difference: the stiff hospital bed by the back wall.
The one with metal railings and IV bags set on stands beside it.
The one where her mother lay motionless as machinery beeped in the background.
The overcast light slanted through the windows, pooling shadows against her mother’s sleeping form. Hena took a tentative step toward her and spotted an empty vial on the nightstand. Lifting the bottle, she read the fine print: morphine sulfate.
Unease settled in her stomach. Her mother was taking morphine? Growing up, she refused to take so much as an Advil. How much pain was she in?
Hena gripped the cool metal bed railing and, for the first time since she’d arrived, truly took in her mother. Her thin arms. Hollowed-out cheeks. The fragile jawline, once set in stone. It was like staring at a stranger.
She still remembered her final day in Florida. When Ammi had stepped into Hena’s bedroom and caught her zipping up her luggage.
“What are you doing?” her mother had asked, her voice sharp.
Hena’s insides had knotted. She’d hoped to be gone before anyone noticed. She’d already written a note to stick on the fridge on her way out.
“The police said I’m free to go, so I’m leaving,” she said. “My flight is in three hours.”
“You’re leaving,” her mother repeated. “You’re running away in the middle of this mess?”
Hena couldn’t speak. She watched her mother’s face harden.
“No goodbye,” Ammi said. “Not even for your sister. She’s not here, you know.”
“It’s better this way,” Hena said, knowing it was a lie even as she said it.
Her mother stared at her for a long, silent moment before walking out.
Hena had set her bags down. She’d barely caught her breath when her mother returned, shoving an envelope into her hands.
She looked inside—cash. “I have enough—”
“You want to go? Then go,” her mother said. “You want to pretend you’re not part of this family, so be it. I told you about that boy, didn’t I? I warned you over and over, but Hena does what Hena wants. You have caused me more grief than I ever imagined.”
“Ammi—” Hena’s anger drained, replaced by a sudden, heavy grief. “I’m sorry. I’ll come back. I’ll visit—”
“Don’t bother,” her mother replied. “We’ll just pretend you’re dead.”
She had stayed true to her word. Not a phone call or a text in over three years. Now Hena was back, and her mother lay supine on this bed. Now she was dying. Hena clutched the railing tighter. Just because your mother didn’t love you the way you needed her to didn’t mean you stopped craving it.
Hena heard the front door open in the distance. Moments later, her aunt stepped inside. Coming closer, she took Hena’s hand and squeezed it. Hena gave her a grateful smile.
“Are you all right?” Khala asked in a whisper. “I heard about the snakes. Terrifying. They said the thing nearly squeezed the poor girl’s breath away.”
Hena suppressed an eye roll. Rumors. Always a pinch of truth with a dash of baseless chatter.
“The snake didn’t do anything,” she told her. “But a python can kill you even if you’re not its natural prey.”
“What’s this about pythons?” Her mother’s eyes fluttered open.
Whoops. Had they been talking too loudly?
“We have a snake infestation. Pythons, Frida.” Khala shuddered. “Maheen’s daughter was keen on petting one. Hena saved the little girl’s life.”
Hena expected her mother to be horrified, but instead, she chuckled as she raised her bed with the remote.
“History repeats itself, doesn’t it?” she said.
“It certainly does,” Khala replied, a knowing look passing between them.
Hena frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You were about three years old when one of those things slithered into the sandbox behind my duplex,” Khala told her.
“That one wrapped itself good and well around you,” her mother said.
“Me?” Hena gaped at her. “I have no memory of that.”
“Count your blessings, because I remember it all in terrifying detail.” Khala shivered. “I panicked. Your mother leapt to action. She banged a pot against its head and wrenched it off with her bare hands.”
“It was a small snake, as far as pythons go,” Ammi said.
A funny feeling passed through Hena.
“You saved my life,” she said.
“It’s what mothers do,” said Khala. “They protect their children at all costs.”
“It’s what mothers should do,” Ammi corrected. “A python was simple enough. People were the true challenge.”
“Now, now.” Khala smoothed her hands over her dupatta. “No need to dwell on all of that.”
“I’ll be dead soon enough. When else can I dwell?” Ammi replied.
Hena tensed. They were talking about her father. They never spoke of him. She wasn’t sure she wanted to start now. Luckily, Lulu stepped into the room, which meant this line of conversation was closed. At least for now.
Her sister walked to their mother’s bedside. At the sight of her, Ammi’s face brightened.
“Sorry I’m late,” Lulu said. “It’s chaos out there.”
“That is the way of weddings,” her mother replied.
“This is extra, even for a wedding,” Lulu said. “We have to reschedule tonight’s fireworks due to forecasted storms. And Sritala dropped off the shaadi cake four days early.”
“Oh dear.” Khala’s brow furrowed. “I saw it on the kitchen island. I wasn’t sure…”
“The staff got so flustered they dropped it off here. What am I supposed to do with it? She said I called and asked her to switch the date! Can you believe her?” Lulu exclaimed. “I went off. Why would you blame me? Mistakes happen, but own it!”
“Could we store it in one of the industrial fridges downstairs?” Hena asked.
“Chantilly cream isn’t meant to sit. Besides, the berries will bleed through the sponge by morning,” Lulu said. “It’s fine. She’ll remake it, but between this and the snake situation, I’m ready for this week to be over.”
“I heard about the pythons,” their mother said.
Lulu shuddered. “I’m mortified.”
“There’s nothing to be mortified about. Nature happens,” Hena reassured her.
“But so many of them?” Lulu said. “The wildlife team is here now. Lucinda’s showing them around. Once they remove the pythons, they’ll set up a snake gate around the property so it doesn’t happen again. I can’t imagine if this had happened after we were fully launched.”
“Lucinda is lovely,” Hena said. “She gave me her personal cell in case I needed anything.”
Lulu smiled. “She’s great, isn’t she? Did you know she used to work for our dad?”
Hena grew still. She looked at her mother, then back at Lulu.
“She did?”
Lulu nodded. “She helped with organizing and bookkeeping. When I saw her résumé, I did a double take. Small world, right?”
“She looks barely older than me,” Hena said.
“She started in high school over at his Miramar resort. You know he loved giving kids who needed it the extra boost.”
But the hotel in Miramar wasn’t just a resort. It was where his side business lived, tucked in the shadows of the palm-lined drive where kids desperate enough for cash did the jobs no one spoke about—delivering envelopes with no questions asked, knocking on doors with threats and ultimatums.
“She’s shared so many great stories about him,” Lulu continued.
“It’s a totally different perspective. He was a natural at this business stuff.
Hopefully I have some of that in me.” She sighed.
“I just have the one property, we haven’t even opened officially, and already it’s one thing after another.
Sometimes I miss culinary school, but I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it soon enough.
I like thinking he’s looking down on us.
That he’s proud we’re at least trying to keep his legacy alive. ”
A doorbell chimed, and she heard Gita go to answer the door.
Hena looked at her mother. Her expression was unreadable. She refused to meet Hena’s gaze.
This, this right here, was why Hena had told her mother countless times that Lulu deserved to know who her father really was. No matter how much she’d tried, Ammi wouldn’t hear of it. What’s the harm? Her mother would retort in the face of Hena’s arguments. He’s gone. Let her love him.
But why love a man who didn’t deserve it? And Lulu didn’t just love their father—she revered him. Or at least the man she believed he was. His absence had only amplified his legendary status in her eyes.
“The steamer dropped off tonight’s outfit,” Gita said, appearing at the doorway. “She was in a rush, but she’ll be back in a little while for tomorrow’s clothing. I can put it out for you?”
“No, it’s all right.” Lulu massaged her temples. “I’ll hang it by the service entrance, it’s—” Lulu cut off. She touched her throat, blinking fast.
Hena tensed. “Lulu?”
“I—” Lulu coughed. “My throat feels…weird.”
Ammi gasped. “She’s having an allergic reaction.”
Hena’s pulse spiked. Ammi was right. It wasn’t just Lulu’s throat—her arms and face were breaking out into angry red splotches.
“I can’t—I can’t breathe.” Lulu staggered backward, knocking a lamp from the side table. The bulb burst into a spray of glass. She clutched at her throat. Panicking. Her lips were already turning blue.
“The EpiPen!” Hena shouted. “Where is it?”
“In her purse!” Ammi cried out.
Before Hena could move, Gita raced to Lulu’s bag and frantically rifled through. Loose change, lipstick, and a compact mirror clattered to the floor. At last, she yanked out the plastic tube. Uncapping it, she raced to Lulu’s side and thrust the needle into her leg.
It would work. Hena knew it would. But terror shot through her all the same.
Seconds later, Lulu let out a ragged gasp. Hena grabbed her as she sank hard to the floor.
“You’re going to be fine,” Hena said, soothing her sister, trying to keep her voice from wavering. “Just give it time. You’ll be all better before you know it.”
Cradling Lulu in her arms, the minutes ticked by.
Hena’s thoughts flashed to her sister’s eleventh birthday, when the server had failed to note her nut allergy.
When Lulu bit into the cake, her lips swelled instantly.
Hena remembered the panic. Her mother frantically digging through her purse as a crowd grew around their table.
Just as before, seeing her sister struggle for air made Hena’s own lungs compress with fear.
But Lulu was improving. Hena watched as Lulu’s eyes slowly fluttered open and met Hena’s.
“Well, that was…that was something,” she finally said.
“You’re okay,” Hena said, her stomach unclenching, her own voice growing steadier. “You’re past the worst of it.”
“Thanks, everyone,” Lulu said weakly.
She was better now. Still, the thought of how dangerous the situation was…how close she had been to death…Hena shivered.
“We should get you to the ER,” she said.
“There’s no need.” Lulu struggled to sit up. She winced as she grazed a hand where Gita had stabbed her. “I’m better now.”
“Lulu—”
“If I need the second pen, yes. Fingers crossed this was it.”
“How did this happen?” Hena asked. “You didn’t touch anything at the breakfast bar, did you?”
“I avoided everything. I’ve been washing my hands constantly,” she said, as Gita swept up the broken glass. “I must have brushed against something allergenic pretty recently—this all sparked after I touched my face.”
“Well, you’re all right now,” Gita said. “That’s what matters.”
Hena went to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water for Lulu. She watched as Lulu took a few sips, the color returning to her face.
“Why don’t you lie down?” Hena said. “What happened is no joke.”
“I’m good. Really,” she said. “But I do need a favor.”
“Anything,” said Hena.
“The airboat ride is in thirty minutes. I forgot to make copies of the waiver. The paper’s on my desk. Can you take it down to Lucinda?”
Hena blinked. Minutes earlier Lulu was battling anaphylactic shock. Her arms were still covered in angry red welts. Now she was discussing paperwork?
“Lulu…I think you can take a break on wedding logistics for just a second,” Hena said.
Her sister’s smile was faint but defiant. “I am. It’s why I’m asking you to take care of this.”
“Sure. But I’m going to sit this ride out. I’d rather keep an eye on you.”
“Nice try.”
“Lulu.”
“I mean it. Besides, Gita is here.”
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Gita promised. “If anything else happens, it’s straight to the emergency room.”
Hena could see there was no getting out of this. She stood, her legs unsteady. She hated the thought of leaving her sister while she was still recovering, but Lulu was clearly determined. Hena grabbed the waiver and headed to the elevator.
When she got in, she leaned against the back wall. First the pythons, now this. The wedding was off to an unsettling start. It wasn’t even noon and she was already exhausted. But all was well, she reminded herself. Inaya was safe. Her sister was fine. Everything worked out as it was meant to.
She was reaching to press the lobby button when something crunched under her foot.
She knelt and picked it up. For a split second she couldn’t process what she was looking at.
It was a single crushed pistachio husk.
Hena stared at the empty shell.
Why was it in this elevator?
A guest, Hena told herself. This elevator serviced other suites as well.
Khaled’s. His parents’. Everyone staying in this tower used the same lift.
Someone may not have realized. It’s not as though there was an explicit nut ban.
They could have been snacking in the elevator and contaminated the buttons as they touched their floor.
A contact as faint as this, with Lulu touching her face shortly after, could have triggered a reaction.
However it happened, it was an accident.
No one would purposely hurt Lulu.
But then the thought slithered in, unbidden, as her mind drifted to the note left in her clutch: There were plenty of people who might want to hurt Hena.
People who might try to hurt her little sister to send a message.
Hena shuddered, shoving the paranoia away.
No.
It was an accident.
It had to be.