Chapter 29
chapter 29
“Dev, we’re here!”
Standing up from where he’d been sprawled on the couch for several hours, Dev frowned into his phone. With the soft launch for the bazaar planned for the following evening, he had invited Gia to come see the finished café and, hopefully, make a final decision for its future. But it wasn’t like her to announce her arrival.
“So come in,” he said, as he moved toward the stairs.
“Our hands are too full.”
“Full? Full of what?” Dev paused on the rickety steps. “Wait, who all is with you?”
“Hurry up, would you? It’s cold outside,” Gia urged before hanging up on him.
Shy of the entrance into the bazaar, Dev shielded his hands in front of his body before realizing that the seashell curtain had been removed. Funny how pieces of the old store would always stick with him, maybe even inspire the odd twinge of nostalgia of how things used to be.
But it was time to move on.
Dev jogged to the bazaar’s entrance to unlock the door, less than pleased when he realized that along with Aashi, his mother had also invited Neel, Priya, and their daughters. His nieces he wasn’t so worried about, especially after they let out twin squeals of delight before running to the designated children’s area closely tailed by their mother.
Neel was too busy surveying the redesign, arms folded in front of his chest like a land baron.
“Nice work, Downer Dev,” Neel said. “This place looks pretty good.”
“This place is beautiful!” Aashi called from where she and Gia were unloading the contents of various cloth bags onto the front counter. “Naomi outdid herself.”
Dev nodded, slightly annoyed with himself that he hadn’t been the one to credit Naomi first.
“Hang on a second,” Neel said, jerking his thumb at the long family-style table. “I thought I told you to replace this with grab-and-go-type seating.”
“That might have been what you wanted, but since Mom is the client…”
Neel rolled his eyes. “This again? We already discussed this.”
“No, you—”
“Dev,” Gia called from the register, inserting herself into a sibling argument as she had so many times before. “I forgot the matches at home. Do you have any?”
“Matches? What would you need those…” Dev trailed off when he saw what Gia and Aashi had set up on the front counter. A tiny shrine for the goddess Laxmi in the center, complete with fresh fruit offerings, tea light candles, and incense. He should have figured his mom would want to do a puja before the café was open to the public. Any time an important event—like moving into a new home, taking a big exam, or starting a new job—occurred, Gia always insisted on passing up prayers to whatever god or goddess she felt best to bestow blessings on her family.
Dev had always rolled his eyes at the ancient ritual, and yet, he felt something clench in his chest. These time-honored traditions might be dusty, but they were still a part of him and everything he knew.
“Found some!” Aashi called, pulling a lighter out of a drawer. She and Gia busied themselves lighting candles and arranging their offerings just so.
“This place is really something,” Priya told Dev, materializing at his side. She smiled at where her daughters were pretending to make coffee. “The children’s area is genius. And the colors…They’re so cheerful and comforting.”
“That’s all Naomi,” Dev confirmed, powerless against the proud smile spreading across his face.
“She’s something special, too, isn’t she?” Priya said gently.
With a deep breath, and a quick glance to where Aashi and Gia murmured prayers in front of their shrine, Dev nodded. “Actually—”
“This place is kind of frilly, isn’t it?” Neel boomed, showing them his phone. On the screen was a before picture from when Neel had played amateur photographer when the bazaar had been newly renovated but with none of the accent pieces and customized flourishes.
“I think it reminds me of your mother,” Aashi said as she and Gia joined them.
Neel shook his head. “That’s not the kind of vibe we should be going for. Look, the bazaar was cute, but if we want to be taken seriously in the business community, we need to prioritize profit, not customers.”
“And where do you think profit comes from, Neel?” Aashi asked with an indulgent little grin.
“They don’t get it. This is a business, not your living room.” Neel nudged Dev. “Tell them what I’m talking about.”
The urge to belittle his older brother was strong, but instead Dev turned to Gia. It was time for her to choose for herself, to be the deciding factor over what happened to her namesake.
His mother looked a little embarrassed by the undivided attention. She glanced around at the beautiful café; it was hard to imagine that the dingy, tired bazaar had ever existed in such a vivid and coordinated space.
“It’s a lot,” Gia said softly.
“Yes, exact—” Neel said.
Dev’s jaw dropped when Priya shushed him before he could.
Gia did a slow turn of the space, lingering slightly longer where her granddaughters were now bent over the same coloring book, hard at work. When she turned to face them again, a small smile graced her face.
“I’m sorry, Neel. I’m keeping the bazaar—I mean, the café. I’m keeping the café.”
“Mom, you don’t know the first thing about running a place like this,” Neel protested.
Although the smile remained, a thread of steel ran through Gia’s words. “I’ll learn.”
“I can help,” Dev blurted out, “with the business side of things.” Although he was momentarily taken aback by his declaration, a sense of rightness settled in his stomach. After three months of working on the rebrand with Naomi, the idea of staying connected to it—even in a minute way—wasn’t unappealing. He wanted to see it succeed and to be part of its success. It meant something to him now.
“You’re an accountant, not a businessman,” Neel argued.
“I’ll learn.”
“But I can take the bazaar to new heights. I have a vision!” Neel turned imploring eyes to Gia. “Don’t you want the family business to be a respectable pillar of the community?”
Priya’s hand clamped down on her husband’s shoulder. “I’m sure they’ll appreciate you helping out when you’re not pitching in at home. With all this newfound ambition, you’ll have plenty to spare.”
Neel’s mouth opened and closed a few times like a fish stranded on the shore. “But…But…”
“We’ll all help,” Aashi said with a nod, “where we can. This is a family business, after all.”
Neel stole one more glance at his mother, but something in the set of her chin had him nodding grudgingly instead. Dev knew he had assumed a responsibility that would ensure him a front-row seat to endless Mukherjee family madness: conversations that were half interrupting one another, half sly digs; well-meaning aunties-turned-patrons who would provide unsolicited feedback on the quality of food as if they were trained chefs themselves; and his mom, bringing gossip home every day along with stale leftovers.
Yep. He had voluntarily signed himself up for this. And yet, if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t mind.
Aashi rubbed her hands together. “So, what are we going to call this place?”
“Mukherjee Palace,” Neel said right away. Behind his back, Priya shook her head.
“Sweet Stop? The Sweet Spot,” Priya ventured.
“Chai o’Clock!” Aashi laughed.
Gia examined every face staring expectantly at her before turning to Dev. “What do you think?”
It was Dev’s turn to feel bashful under his family’s scrutiny. Although letting them decide would’ve been a hell of a lot easier, Dev made his way behind the counter to pull out the sign he had stashed there. It was something he’d taken on in private, an independent contribution that now, when held between his hands for his family to judge, had his heart racing in his chest.
With uncertain fingers, he turned the sign so they could see its front: Gia’s. Simple, bold white letters on a burgundy sign.
The scratches of the twins’ crayons on paper were the only sound in the room until Gia said, her voice teary:
“Perfect.”
At the ungodly hour of six thirteen on a Sunday morning, Naomi pulled into the bazaar’s parking lot, a mixture of relief and disappointment burbling in her chest when she noted that Dev’s car was nowhere in sight. He was likely at his weekly basketball game with his friends, affording her a few hours to make sure everything was ready for the soft launch. Naomi had already, with Aashi’s help, ordered the food, created a playlist, and seen to the little odds and ends that she hoped would ensure that the guests left with a sense of satisfaction that would spread like wildfire when the café opened for real.
It had been a hard pill to swallow, physically avoiding the jobsite the week before its soft opening, yet another unprofessional taboo Naomi could add to her growing list of wrongs. She had justified it by telling herself that her pride was more valuable, that the last remaining touches could be performed as smoothly by Nick as by herself.
Protecting her heart, after all, mattered more.
Naomi let herself into the bazaar, already compiling a list of things she wanted to do. The peacock napkins should be artfully arranged on various surfaces, and maybe a Please Don’t Touch placard should sit beside Aashi’s pottery collection, and— Naomi froze in her tracks when she saw who was in the bazaar.
Gia. Sitting by herself on the burgundy couch, a wistful look on her face that dissolved into suspicion when she saw who had entered the premises.
“My son isn’t here.”
“I’m not here to see him,” Naomi said even though the lump in her chest begged to differ. “I’m here to get things ready for the soft launch.”
“Aren’t you a little early?”
“The early bird gets the worm,” Naomi chirped. Too bad that, in this moment, she felt more like the worm than the predator. She moved toward the creamer station by the front counter and began straightening its contents, placing a pink Post-it on the creamer to remind Aashi, who had said she would arrive at the café a few hours before the soft launch to receive the food, to fill it.
Gia ambled to her side, silent as she watched Naomi carefully arrange a small stack of peacock napkins in a perfect fan.
“These are beautiful,” she murmured. “My favorite animal.”
“I’m glad you like them.”
“I suppose you’re also here for your paycheck?”
Naomi turned to Gia, startled. “So you’re happy with the result? You don’t want to wait to see how the soft launch goes first?” Although she’d already received plenty of accolades from Aashi, this moment was what Naomi had been waiting for.
Or was it? Because when Gia nodded her confirmation, Naomi felt strangely empty.
Sure, a small part of her—the part that had pulled together a beautiful café in three months—glowed, but that sense of proving herself? Of impressing Gia, who had doubted her every step of the way?
Empty.
“Okay, great,” Naomi said woodenly. “I’ll email you my invoice next week.” She forced a smile. “This place is going to be a success, you’ll see.” Although Naomi meant every word, it felt like she was saying it more for her own benefit than Gia’s.
And Gia heard it, too. “What’s wrong? Is this not what you envisioned?”
Naomi swallowed a bitter laugh as she looked around her; memories of the work she and Dev had put in coated everything like forest fire smoke. Instead of answering, she moved behind the front counter and began systematically opening and closing drawers and cupboards even though her brain barely registered their contents.
Gia moved to the other side of the counter and watched.
“I don’t know if you’re waiting for an apology,” Naomi found herself saying, “for not telling you about my ethnicity. Or the fake-dating thing. Or for whatever my mother said to you at Diwali. If you are, then I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry.”
Naomi closed a drawer a little more forcefully than necessary and thanked the heavens that Nick wasn’t around to see her abusing his craftsmanship. “I know you look at me and see failure. I’m the product of a teenage pregnancy. I don’t know my grandparents, I don’t know my culture, and I don’t measure up to the standards you set for your son.”
Gia’s face was unreadable as Naomi bustled around, touching everything and completing nothing.
“But I’m done thinking I have to prove myself.” Naomi stared into a cupboard full of oversized mugs. More fucking peacock designs. “I thought I had proven myself, and look where that’s gotten me.” She shut the cupboard and glared at the door handle before moving on. “It wasn’t enough.”
“I just said I’m happy with the work,” Gia protested.
“Not you! Him. Dev! Your son. Dev.” With her back to Gia, Naomi bowed her head, willing the tears threatening to shimmy down from her burning eyelids to stay where they were. She thought they had all dried out.
“In the end, the culture thing outweighs everything else, doesn’t it?” Naomi said before sinking her teeth into her bottom lip. When she turned to face Gia, she didn’t know what to make of her face, the hard and soft emotions warring for territory there.
“I admit it was stupid of me to lead you to believe I was something I’m not, to try to belong somewhere that doesn’t want me. But my mother’s decision to leave her family and shun the community? That wasn’t my fault. My grandparents letting her go? Also not my fault. My dad not sticking around, being cut off from my culture…? Not. My. Fault.”
Immediately, Naomi felt lighter, as if saying the words had unburdened her of the dead weight of a past she barely knew. And yet her skin flushed cold, then hot with embarrassment when she realized what she had unloaded on Gia. It was the wrong dumping ground for all this toxic waste inside her.
But at least it was out.
Gia cleared her throat. “Well…Of course it’s not your fault.”
Naomi shook her head against the reassurance, so tentatively uttered. She didn’t need Gia’s approval anymore. Instead, she reached into her bag and pulled out her last contribution to the café: a tiny brown Jesus keychain that she carefully angled beside the cash register.
“I hope you know how lucky you are to have a son who would sacrifice everything for you,” Naomi said.
“I’m doing what I think is best for my son.”
Naomi snorted. “So did my grandparents, and look how my mom turned out.”
“I would never let that happen—I love him too much.”
Despite every brain cell commanding otherwise, Naomi’s heart squeezed like it was wringing itself out. She needed to get away from here. “I’ll send you my invoice after the soft launch,” she said.
Naomi took one last look at the bazaar-turned-café and nodded. It was perfect. And while she might not be, she was okay.
“It was a pleasure working for you.” She offered Gia a wobbly smile and let herself out.