Chapter Two #3
“Sorry, Ethan. You can’t rent out the funeral home for that,” she said firmly, crossing her arms. “It’s not like we have a bedroom or live-in space downstairs, and we certainly can’t host you here.
” She gestured around the apartment. Even her parents would agree it was a terrible idea—Ethan Knight brushing his teeth at the kitchen sink because the bathroom was perpetually occupied was not happening.
Ethan leaned back, unfazed. “That’s fine. My character has to find his way out before sundown, so I can work with daytime access.”
Puppa frowned. “Regardless of the hours, we would still have to shut down if you’re here.”
Priya felt a rush of triumph. Puppa was not going to go for it.
“We have never closed the funeral home,” he continued, “but…”
No. No buts, Puppa. Priya mentally willed her father to hold his ground.
“We would have to close for the renovations anyway. If another funeral home agrees to accommodate our clients during that time, we can manage.”
“But we’re the only ones in this area that perform Hindu funerals.” Priya’s voice sharpened. “We can’t just outsource something so important.”
“You’re very passionate about this all of a sudden.” Mumma raised an eyebrow.
“There’s a funeral home a bit farther that also serves our community.” Puppa rubbed his chin, thoughtful. “We’ve helped them out a few times in the past. I’m sure they’ll be willing to step in while we bring everything up to code. If we don’t do this, we risk losing Moksha altogether.”
“So, do we have a deal?” Ethan’s lips curled into a smile.
“I think we can work something out,” Puppa replied.
Priya swallowed back a hysterical laugh—the kind that bubbles up when you’re about to lose your mind.
Her family was finally on the verge of walking away from Moksha’s crumbling legacy, but now Ethan had appeared with his million-dollar smile, derailing a clean, inevitable ending.
If there were an Oscar for Most Meddlesome Actor, he’d be giving his acceptance speech right now.
“Excellent,” he declared, clapping his hands together. “How much notice do you need to give your clients?”
“About a week to wrap things up, and there may be a brief overlap for any commitments I need to see through myself.” Puppa’s voice held a quiet pride, the kind that came from years of shouldering a responsibility he considered both a privilege and a calling.
“A week is perfect. It will give me time to tie up some loose ends on my side too.”
“Wonderful. I will stop by your father’s estate to let you know when we’re all set.”
Ethan paused for a moment before replying. “I’m not staying with my father. Just message me when you’re ready.”
“Of course.” Puppa bobbed his head in agreement.
“I’ll ask Priya to get in touch.” He looked at Ethan as if he was turning something over in his mind.
“Why aren’t you staying with your father, Mr. Ethan?
” he finally asked, unable to hold back.
The idea of lodging elsewhere when family was close by was downright bizarre.
“Dad!” Priya jumped in, part scolding, part pleading. She turned to Ethan, her expression apologetic. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer.”
“It’s okay,” Ethan said tightly. “My father and I haven’t spoken in years,” he continued, glancing at her parents.
Brooke shifted uncomfortably in her seat as Mumma’s eyes widened in pure disbelief. “You are not speaking to Harry?” she asked. Cutting ties with a parent was a path that led straight to the murkiest levels of Narak, the very definition of hell.
“Unfortunately, my father stopped talking to me when I walked away from the family business to pursue acting,” Ethan explained.
Priya knew this part of his story from Brooke, but hearing him say it hit differently. She felt a quiet sadness for the boy who had walked away, and for the man still carrying the cost.
Mumma clucked her tongue. “Oh, but surely he must be proud of you! You’ve accomplished so much.”
“He’s successful too,” Ethan said with a small shrug. “And not easily impressed.”
“They’re both stubborn as hell,” Brooke cut in, rolling her eyes. “I’ve tried everything—dinners, casual run-ins, fake emergencies. You name it. I even tried convincing Ethan to stay with us this time, but nope. Not happening.”
“If you are not next door, then where are you staying, Mr. Ethan?” Puppa asked.
“Downtown. At the Hazelton,” he replied.
Priya blinked, her mind connecting the dots. The chaos on the highway was because of him. Ethan Knight was the kind of star who could bring an entire city to its knees. I’d stop to gawk too, she admitted to herself.
“The paparazzi are camped out there around the clock,” Brooke said. “It’s a nightmare trying to shake them off. I’m not sure how you’re going to give them the slip every day to get here.” She looked over at her brother.
“I have a solution,” Puppa said.
Priya pinched the bridge of her nose. This day wasn’t just a lost cause—it was actively conspiring against her.
“You can stay in the coach house, Mr. Ethan. It’s not as fancy as your current accommodations, but it’s right on our property, and you’ll have all the privacy you need.”
“You told me the coach house wasn’t an option,” Priya pointed out, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice.
She’d brought up the coach house when she started planning her move back, hoping for some privacy and space, but her parents had shot her down right away.
And now they were rolling out the welcome mat for Ethan?
“The coach house hasn’t been used in years, and we have a perfectly fine three-bedroom apartment,” Puppa replied, before turning back to Ethan. “It does need a little work, but once that’s sorted, it’s a wonderful little space. Bright, cozy, and self-contained. I think you’ll really like it.”
“Sounds perfect,” Ethan said. “But only if you let me pay my share.”
“Mr. Ethan, it would be a privilege to have you as our guest while you’re here.”
“Privilege won’t pay for a new electrical system, Mr. Solanki,” Ethan joked lightly. “And since I plan on staying for a month, I suggest we arrive at a figure that’s mutually beneficial.”
Puppa’s eyes lit up. Bargaining and negotiation coursed through his Gujarati veins. “If you don’t mind me asking, how much are you paying for the hotel?” His tone carried a polite innocence that Priya instantly recognized as the opening act to a full-on haggling session.
After learning the amount, Puppa reached for a pen and paper and started crunching numbers. The final figure seemed to please him, but as he shared it with Ethan, his lips pursed in contemplation.
“Something wrong?” Ethan asked.
Puppa scratched his chin.
Priya cringed, recognizing her father’s telltale gesture. He was gearing up to play hardball with Hollywood’s resident heartthrob.
“Let’s make it U.S. dollars. Cash,” he declared, raising both hands in the air as if sealing the deal.
“But I’m paying Canadian at the hotel,” Ethan countered.
“But I am charging you half their rate, and I will include your meals.”
“You’re throwing in the fritters?”
“Arey, forget the fritters. All-inclusive. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Theplas, muthiyas, samosas, fafdas, pendas, ganthias…You name it.”
“Now we’re talking!” Brooke grinned. “I might cancel my flight and move in too.”
“Perfect,” Priya muttered. “I’ve been back for five minutes, and suddenly we’re running a boardinghouse.”
“Priya!” Mumma shot her a warning look.
Ethan chuckled. “So, what’s the going rate for renting a funeral home?”
Puppa froze, realizing he had forgotten the larger number. Laxmi, the goddess of wealth, was showering him with money in crisp green U.S. bills.
“I will have to look at the books and let you know,” he replied.
“You’re not going to overcharge me, are you, Mr. Solanki?” A glimmer danced in Ethan’s eyes.
“Overcharge? Never. There is no overcharging at Moksha. Only creative pricing. You’ll get the finest deal, I promise.”
“In that case…” Ethan lifted his glass. “Here’s to Moksha.”
“And to your next movie.” Puppa raised his glass too.
“Cheers.” Mumma and Brooke joined in.
Priya had no doubt that Ethan’s offer felt like divine intervention to her parents, a miracle sent to save Moksha at its darkest hour.
But accepting Ethan’s offer was nothing more than a Band-Aid on a gaping wound.
Her parents would spend the money on renovations, leaving them in the same difficult position next time something else needed fixing.
The cycle of debt and struggle would never end.
Selling Moksha wasn’t just the smarter option; it was the only real solution.
If her father wouldn’t see reason, she would have to take matters into her own hands.
Priya’s gaze settled on Ethan. Beneath the infuriatingly perfect jawline and dreamy eyes was the root of all their troubles. Priya had to get rid of him before the offer for Moksha expired.
As the lights buzzed overhead again, a plan began to form in her mind. She lifted her glass in a private toast to her mission—to remove Ethan Knight from their lives and send him packing to Tinseltown as quickly as possible.