Chapter Two #2
“Mumma…” Priya’s voice tightened, but she went back to her parents’ room and riffled through her mother’s underwear drawer.
Bypassing the collection of vintage twin-peaks bras, she picked the least ferocious option.
Mumma’s bra could house a brood of sparrows, so Priya rolled it tight before passing it to her through the crack in the door.
“Anything else?” she asked.
“Tu ja,” Mumma retorted. “Maru mathu nai kha.” Go away. Don’t eat my head.
“Everything all right?” Brooke asked when Priya returned.
“Mumma forgot her towel. She’ll be right out,” Priya replied, earning an appreciative glance from Puppa. Lying was dishonorable, but lying to save your family’s honor was wholeheartedly approved.
A moment later, Mumma swept into the room in a scented cloud of jasmine and rosewater.
“Brooke, beta.” She strode over to Brooke, arms wide and welcoming. As she released Brooke from her tight hug, her eyes fell on Ethan, and she mustered a look of surprise that would give veteran soap opera stars a run for their money.
“Heavens! Ethan Knight. In our home?” She turned to Puppa, as if to confirm she wasn’t dreaming. “Please forgive me. I’m so starstruck!”
Priya stifled a snort. That part was one hundred percent genuine.
“It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Solanki,” Ethan replied politely.
“You remember my name.” Mumma got so giddy, she could barely contain herself.
“And you know what? I remember your favorite snack. Every time I packed some for Brooke, she complained that you gobbled it all up.” She beamed at him.
“Sit, sit. Please. Everybody sit and talk. I will whip it up in a flash.”
“Please don’t go to any trouble,” Ethan said, but Mumma had already darted off into the kitchen, leaving no room for debate. Now that she was around, Puppa was more at ease.
“You know, I have not missed a single one of your films,” he said to Ethan. “Every time we go to the movies, I tell them you grew up right next to us. I still remember you tearing down these streets on your motorcycle. That was before all the houses and shops came to the area.”
“I must’ve been a real pain,” Ethan said with a chuckle. “Enough for you to talk to my dad about it.”
“Oh, no, no,” Puppa said, flushing with embarrassment. “Nothing like that. We just had to make sure the funeral home was peaceful and quiet.”
With Ethan and Puppa fully engaged in a conversation, Brooke leaned closer to Priya and lowered her voice. “How are your parents handling things? I mean, with the divorce and all.”
Priya shrugged. “They’re not exactly thrilled, but they’ve had some time to adjust. Now they’re on me to join the family business.” She rolled her eyes.
“Ugh. Not the family business pitch.” Brooke’s lips twisted, her eyes darting to Ethan.
“Right?” Priya replied. “I’d barely come through the door before they started. But enough about me. Are you still with that guy from Istanbul?”
“I’ve moved on to Helsinki, with a healthy side of Montreal.”
“What happened to Istanbul?”
Brooke dropped her voice two octaves. “My pussy didn’t approve,” she whispered.
Priya laughed. “You mean Lady Whiskerbottom didn’t get along with him?”
“Nothing happens without Her Meowjesty’s blessing, you know.”
Mumma resurfaced from the kitchen and waved everyone to the table. “Everyone, please come. Food is ready.”
Priya’s mother had gone into a fritter frenzy.
Every vegetable in the kitchen had been sliced, diced, battered, and fried.
Potato bhajiyas, onion bhajiyas, spinach bhajiyas, different kinds of chutneys, sev puri, and dhokla.
As the pièce de résistance, she unveiled a generous bowl of chevda, a crunchy mix of flattened rice flakes, daal, nuts and curry leaves seasoned with salt, sugar, chili powder, and other spices.
“I have to confess, Mrs. Solanki,” Brooke said with a grin, spooning chutney onto her plate next to a pile of bhajiyas.
“I only became friends with Priya because her lunch game was so strong. While the rest of us were stuck with sandwiches and cafeteria food, Priya’s tiffin was a feast for the senses. ”
“Not everyone was a fan,” Priya quipped dryly. She hated carrying her three-tiered stainless steel lunch container to school and wished for lunch money instead, so she could escape the teasing about the overpowering smells from her tiffin.
“Not everyone had a sophisticated international palate like me,” Brooke teased.
“Hey, I’ve always been up for trying new flavors,” Ethan said.
“We know all about your diverse tastes,” Priya chimed in, a faint smile masking the sting behind her words. She’d never been a dish he cared to sample. “The gossip columns keep us well informed.”
Ethan raised an eyebrow. “Glad to know you’re keeping tabs on me, Priya.”
Priya immediately wished she could rewind and say something else—anything else.
“Everybody here stalks you,” she blurted out instead.
“You’re this area’s claim to fame. A homegrown superstar.
My sister Deepa has a shrine dedicated to you.
” A celebrity collage, actually, but he didn’t need to know the details.
“We light a diya and do aarti for you every morning.” She smirked as she sat down at the table.
“Priya.” Puppa gave her a withering look. “Mr. Ethan, please have a seat.” He made a sweeping gesture toward the table. “Have, have.”
“Mrs. Solanki, your fritters might just be my greatest weakness,” Ethan declared, stacking his plate high.
Mumma blushed fiercely, her cheeks turning a deep pink. “How is Harry?” she asked.
“Dad’s doing well,” Brooke replied, taking a bit of a dhokla.
“He must be thinking of retiring soon,” Puppa remarked.
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Brooke said.
“It’s not easy to step away when you’ve built something that big,” Puppa added.
Brooke and Ethan exchanged a look but said nothing.
“And how is Lady Whiskerbottom?” Mumma asked.
Brooke beamed. “Getting older and fussier by the day. Still as feisty as ever.”
As she pulled out her phone to show Mumma a photo of her cat, the lights flickered once again. The hum of the refrigerator cut out, and then, just as quickly, everything blinked back to life.
“Did we just have a power outage?” Ethan asked.
“Not for the whole block,” Puppa replied. “Just here. Our electrical system is falling apart. Moksha is an old building.”
“It’s a money pit,” Priya said bluntly. “If it’s not the wiring, it’s the roof. Or the plumbing. Or the windows. The list never ends.”
“Priya is right,” Puppa agreed, with a resigned nod. “We’ve done our best to keep Moksha going, but if we don’t come up with the funds to renovate, we may have to shut down.”
Wait…did he just say that? Priya blinked, unsure if she’d heard him right.
Her father, the man who had stubbornly clung to Moksha through debt, exhaustion, and countless setbacks seemed to be facing reality at last. Was he finally accepting the inevitable?
That no matter how hard he tried, Moksha was heading toward closure, and this time, there was no stopping it.
A spark of hope flared within Priya, not just at the thought of being free of Moksha but the possibility that it might come even sooner than she’d expected. The offer to buy Moksha was still on the table—and the best part? She didn’t have to lift a finger, just let things unfold on their own.
“I would hate to see that happen,” Ethan said. “You’ve been a part of this neighborhood for as long as I can remember.”
“It’s the last thing we want,” Puppa replied, his sadness evident.
“Well, then today’s your lucky day!” Brooke announced, flashing a bright smile. “Ethan has a proposal you might want to hear.”
Priya shot her a sharp look. Excuse me?
“Brooke is right,” Ethan said, his eyes shifting between Priya and her parents. “I’m here because I need your help.”
“Our help?” Puppa repeated, exchanging a baffled look with Mumma.
Ethan nodded before continuing. “Actors get typecast all the time, and I don’t want to fall into that trap,” he explained. “My next role is a complete departure from action movies. It’s about a man who comes alive in a funeral home and has to outsmart death before sundown.”
Priya blinked. “You’re joking, right?”
“I’m not,” Ethan said with a small grin. “And that’s why I was hoping I could spend some time at Moksha. Get a feel for the setting. If you’re open to it.”
“Mr. Ethan,” Puppa said, practically beaming, “we would be honored to help in any way we can. You are free to come and go as you please.”
“That’s just the thing, Mr. Solanki. I tend to attract attention wherever I go. So, I was thinking—what if I rent out the funeral home and move in temporarily? I could immerse myself in the role, and you’d make some extra cash for your renovations. It’s a win-win for everyone.”
Priya’s head jerked back. What in the actual world is happening right now? No, no, no. This can’t be real. Ethan Knight, of all people, was not sitting at their table, offering her parents a lifeline to keep Moksha going.
Puppa’s voice echoed in her mind: Moksha has a way of calling those it needs.
“Is that…normal?” Priya asked. “I mean, actors don’t usually go that far to prepare, right?” She forced a laugh, hoping it would sound casual. Meanwhile, her thoughts spun in one direction: There is no way I’m letting this happen.
“It’s called method acting,” Ethan explained. “A lot of actors use it to make their performances as realistic as possible. Robert De Niro, Al Pacino, Daniel Day-Lewis, Hilary Swank…”
Priya watched in horror as her parents nodded along, completely hypnotized by him. At this rate, they’d be offering him the deed to the entire grounds. Nope. Absolutely not.