Happiness Key (29 page)

“I have no flowers to put there.” She made a small gesture with her hands, as if to show they were empty.

“Then we must get some outside.”

She had no idea what Rishi was talking about. He wasn’t a man who cared about the way things looked. Days had gone by after his first business trip before he realized that she had painted their bedroom red.

“There are no flowers outside. Many of the pots were destroyed, remember? I made cuttings from some that would not survive, and I am rooting them. The others are trying to recover their strength.”

“I’m sure I saw flowers there.”

She no longer sat on the patio to rest and think. The little fountain she had taken such pleasure in had been destroyed, and the sad plants that had survived were not the most charming company. Still, she watered the pots every day, as she always had. She knew what was there and what was not.

“Then go see what you can find,” she told Rishi, since he was so insistent.

“Come with me to be sure I don’t pick something I shouldn’t.”

Janya wanted to eat, so she agreed. “Yes, all right.” She followed him out the door and around to the patio. Then she stopped.

She couldn’t imagine how she hadn’t heard the noise. Certainly there had been noise. How else would the table and comfortable chairs have arrived? The large pots from Mr. Krause’s cottage been moved into place on the patio? The new pots, four of them, overflowing with flowering hibiscus and gardenias, and jasmine climbing up a small wooden trellis? The fountain, and yes, through teary eyes she saw there was a fountain in the sunniest corner, much larger than the tiny one she had bought at the garage sale, gurgling happily. How had these things appeared without her knowing?

“How did you…?”

“You had music on. You didn’t hear me come inside until I was in the kitchen, remember? The men who brought the furniture helped me get the plants in place, too.”

“Could my music have been that loud?”

“Do you like it?”

She wandered across the little space, looking at the ID tags on the beautiful new plants, admiring the way Mr. Krause’s had been tucked in here and there to form a screen of sorts for privacy from the road. She ran her fingers over the sleek wood of the table, touched the plastic cushions of the chairs, and imagined evenings here with candles, good food and laughter.

She ended up at the fountain. It was on a stonelike pedestal, with stacked squares ending in a basin, and smaller stacks of squares in the middle, from which water bubbled and flowed.

“There are no wires. How does it work?”

“It’s solar powered. I charged the panel at work, which is why it’s working now. As long as we keep it right there in direct sunlight, the fountain will bubble away.”

She faced him. She saw that how she felt about this was the most important thing in the world to him. When had her happiness become so central? When had an arranged marriage, performed only for convenience, assumed such significance in his life? Because gazing into Rishi’s dark eyes, she saw she could destroy him with words now. She could take this beautiful gesture and poison it, simply by not telling him what was in her heart.

But honesty came with risks. She could feel her husband pulling her closer. And was she ready to make that journey?

“This is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me.” She stretched out her hand, and he took it. “You know what matters most to me, Rishi. You knew how this would please me.”

“I hoped so.”

“And spending all this money when we are saving for another car, and someday for a house?”

“So? We will take all this to the house with us. We will put some of it in the new car, if that makes you feel better.”

She laughed a little. When he drew her to him, she went. She let him enfold her in his arms, and when he bent to kiss her, her lips were already turned to his.

“There are no flowers to cut,” she said, when she finally drew away. “I want them all to remain here, where they belong.”

“Then we will eat here, on our new table, surrounded by flowers.”

“I married a romantic man.”

He pulled her close again. “No, you married a man who only wants to make you happy.”

She buried her face in his shoulder and hoped that someday, he would.

Janya expected to adapt easily to a Florida summer. After all, she had lived in Mumbai, waded through monsoons, survived without air-conditioning during her childhood and later during the city’s frequent power outages. But the mid-July heat and humidity, even so close to the gulf, was too reminiscent of the worst of home. Now the patio that Rishi had so lovingly decorated weeks ago was never comfortable except just after sunrise and sometimes in the evening after rain had brought a respite. On nights when it was too hot to have a meal there, they sat outside for at least a few minutes before bed, drinking tea and sharing stories of their days.

In the relative peace of the patio, she and Rishi had begun to relax together. To a croaking, chirping soundtrack, she learned more about the man she had married. He was wiser than Janya had thought, and more considerate. Now she was beginning to believe her husband stayed away so much because he wanted her to have time to get used to their marriage. Not only was he working to
establish himself, but he also didn’t want Janya to feel pressure. She knew Rishi wanted children. He talked about them with longing. But he appeared to want Janya to come to this decision on her own and not feel required to comply.

Janya understood his yearning. For most of his life Rishi had been foisted on others. No one, except his own parents, had ever loved him just for himself. In contrast, a child would look at Rishi as if he held the secrets of the universe in his palm. And didn’t he deserve that? Janya hoped someday she could willingly give him this.

This morning she was finishing preparations for something else entirely. She was giving a party for her neighbors. She had risen early to prepare, making some of her favorite Indian food, which the others had asked for. These weren’t dishes she prepared for Rishi, but her friends had expressed curiosity. Tracy, of course, had eaten in Indian restaurants in California, although Janya didn’t trust that the food had been authentic. But Wanda and Alice admitted they had never tried anything so unusual. So Janya was proudly putting the final touches on a lunch of her favorite dishes, and for once she thought her kitchen smelled exactly the way it should.

Tracy was the first to arrive, banging on the door with her usual lack of patience. Janya answered, and Tracy held out gladiolas. “Congratulations!”

Janya held them to her chest. Yesterday she had passed her driver’s test, the cause for this celebration. “They are so beautiful.”

“They reminded me of you when I saw them at Publix.”

“Come in, please. I will put them in water.”

“Janya, you look so gorgeous. What are you wearing?”

Janya held out her skirt. “Do you like it? The blouse
is called a
choli,
very sensible in hot weather, don’t you think?” The magenta
choli,
with silver embroidery on the sleeves, stopped just below her breasts and was cut low in the back. “And the skirt is called a
lehenga.
Some people call them gypsy skirts.” She held out the wide skirt, which fell to her ankles, but left her midriff bare. “There’s a scarf, too, a
dupatta,
to match the skirt. This was one of those given to me when I married, by Rishi’s aunts.”

“It’s amazing. All that embroidery.”

“As they go, this one is casual. Some are so heavy with beads and sparkling stones you could sink from the weight of them. Brides often wear them.”

“Did you?”

“I wore a red sari with gold embroidery.” Janya had chosen the sari for a different wedding. Her mother had insisted she wear it when she married Rishi, so as not to cost the family more money. Janya wondered if Inika Desai had also wanted to remind her daughter of the man she had lost.

Wanda came up the walk, and the other women greeted her. “You look like something out of some movie,” Wanda told Janya. “One of those Bollywood pictures.”

“You’ve seen Bollywood films?”

“A little dancing here and there, but I don’t do subtitles. I don’t want to read. Can you dance like that?”

“A little, as a matter of fact.” The woman with whom she had practiced the steps and routines as a girl came to mind. Today, even thoughts of Padmini couldn’t spoil her good mood.

“You have to show us,” Tracy said.

“Perhaps after we eat.” Janya hesitated. “Do you think Alice and Olivia will come?”

“I managed to tell her about it without Lee overhearing,” Wanda said. “I know they’ll come if they can.”

The women exchanged glances. Three weeks had passed since Lee stormed into the rec center. He had kept a closer watch on Alice since then, leaving home less often. On the occasions when he was gone, the women got together at the beach, with the unspoken agreement those afternoons wouldn’t be mentioned. Olivia always came, too, but as if keeping secrets were part of her childhood, she apparently never mentioned the get-togethers to her father.

“Would you like to see my license?” Janya asked.

“You say yes, she’ll point out every single letter on it,” Wanda warned.

“I am dying to see this license.” Tracy held out her hand.

Janya just happened to have it tucked into a pocket in her skirt. Tracy was properly deferential, and Janya restrained herself from explaining the many things she had done to deserve it.

They were interrupted by footsteps, and Alice and Olivia arrived. Janya was pleased. They exchanged greetings, and Olivia came over for a hug. Janya embraced her and stroked her hair. “You’re hot? Your hair is wet.”

“It’s boiling out there!”

Everybody laughed. Janya wasn’t certain how long they would have before Alice and Olivia needed to go back home. She asked everyone to be seated; then she began to bring out the food.

Eyes widened as she came and went two more times. Finally Tracy put a hand on her arm to restrain her. “Umm…who else is coming?”

“This is just for us.”

“But it’s a feast.”

“Just enjoy my party.” Janya smiled happily and went back into the kitchen.

She had cooked her favorite
paneer jalfrezi,
cubes of cheese with peppers and onions. To go with it, she had grilled rotis so they were tender and puffy, and made fragrant basmati rice, then, in case that wasn’t enough, spicy potatoes with yogurt sauce, and chana masala, with chickpeas, tomatoes and spices. Cooking the foods she loved had made her happy.

At the table, they passed the bowls, and Alice, who asked what was in every dish, said she had never smelled anything better. Wanda was careful not to take much, but as they finally began to eat, she looked up.

“You know, little sis, I’ve been here when you’ve been cooking before, and nothing smelled like this tastes. This is good!”

“I think perhaps I have not learned to cook American food well. But this I can cook.”

“You don’t cook American food, that’s the trouble. Nothing I’ve ever smelled in here tastes like it came out of my kitchen, that’s for sure.”

“I improve it. Rishi is an American. I have to cook the way an American cooks.”

Tracy reached for another helping of chickpeas. “I don’t see why. Any American would love this.”

“I like it, too, Janya,” Olivia said.

Janya basked in their praise.

Wanda had waited long enough to tell a story. “So, we’re on our way to the driver’s license office yesterday morning, with Janya driving—”

“Thank you for giving me the day off so Wanda could take me,” Janya told Tracy. “It took them a very long time to get to me.”

“Anything to make it easier for you to get in every morning.”

Wanda continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “We’re toodling along, pretty as you please, and just over the bridge, where that new housing development went up, a dog runs out in front of the car. One minute no dog, then cute cocker spaniel, practically right under the tires.”

“Yuck,” Tracy said. “You had to tell us while we’re eating?”

“No, I stopped,” Janya said. “Quickly.”

“Which was a good thing, too, because a little boy came running after the dog, and she might have hit him, too. Which would not impress the cop giving the test, her arriving with a smashed-in front end and all.”

Everybody groaned.

“So Janya is not only a new driver…she’s a good one.” Alice smiled.

Janya thought Alice looked tired, as if she were struggling to stay awake. But she also looked pleased to be with them again.

“But that wasn’t the only thing,” Wanda went on. “After she finally got that license, I looked at the time, and I realized I hadn’t set my video recorder!”

“You missed
All My Children?
” Tracy asked. “And you lived?”

“Now this might seem inconsequential to certain people, but I figure that the day I miss my show, the world’s coming to an end.”

“You must have gotten home in time, because I got up this morning, same as always. Sun was shining.”

“Janya drove like a bat out of hell, pardon the expression. I got home for the last five minutes. I figure that’s good enough, just this once. I can still say I saw it every single weekday. But it was like driving with Dale Earn
hardt Jr. She’s living proof of my abilities as a driving teacher, that’s for sure.”

“Wanda worked very hard and was more patient than anyone could imagine.” Janya smiled at her friend.

“Well, I can testify that Janya is also a wonderful art teacher,” Tracy said. “The mural’s coming along, and the kids are having a fabulous time working on it.”

“I’m doing tarpon fishing,” Olivia said. “Adam and Bay and me. On a ladder.”

Tracy patted the girl’s arm and turned to the others. “You would know how significant that is if you knew Adam and Bay. Olivia’s teaching them to get along. She’s a regular conflict negotiator.”

“It’s a mural about tarpon?” Wanda asked.

“No, it’s about recreation in Sun County, a collage Janya drew for us. Fishing. Golf. Tennis. Shuffleboard. Swimming. Boogie boarders. Bikers. Hikers. Everything fits together beautifully. Everybody loves it, even if it’s only half-done.”

“The children work very hard,” Janya said modestly, but she was pleased at the praise, too.

Tracy dished up yet another helping of the chana masala. “And the mural reminds me. There’s something I keep meaning to tell you, then I forget when we’re together. But I did get another tidbit about Herb from one of the shuffle board, the man who came up with the theme for the mural.”

“You mean those old men you nearly ran down and trampled into the grass?” Wanda asked.

“The very ones.” Tracy passed the dish to Wanda, who replenished her plate, too. “A couple of weeks ago, he told me Herb used to tend bar at a place called Gasparilla’s up in Cargo Beach. Of course, that was a long, long time ago, and it didn’t lead anywhere. I called and checked, and
there’s no bar named Gasparilla’s these days. I’m just hoping he remembers something else, although at this point, I think we’ve hit our last dead end.”

“It wasn’t a bar,” Alice said, scooping up some of her food with one of Janya’s rotis. “Gasparilla’s…”

“You know about it?” Tracy stopped eating. “Alice, really?”

“Fred…” She paused, as if putting words together in his head. “We always went to Cargo Beach…for vacation. And Gasparilla’s? Everyone knew about it and came. A bar and grill. Right on the water.” She looked at Wanda. “Like the Dancing Shrimp.”

“I never thought of that,” Tracy said. “Mr. Mustache said Herb tended bar.”

“He has a real name, right?” Wanda asked. “Mr. Mustache is not this poor fellow’s real name?”

“And I use it when I have to,” Tracy said, waving her to silence.

“Pirate’s Puzzle,” Alice said.

They waited for her to explain.

“A stew they made. People…miles around. They came.” She nodded. “Then the cook died…took the recipe, too. Place kind of, you know…”

“No, what?” Tracy asked.

Alice was gathering steam. “Fancier places came in. Gasparilla’s moved down the road. Some problem with the name, too. Something legal?”

“Did they change it?” Janya asked.

“Sea Breeze.” Alice nodded in confirmation. “But it’s only a bar now.”

“Now?” Tracy asked.

“Yes, it’s…still there.”

“Cool. Only…that must have been…how long ago? Who’s going to remember Herb now?”

“Same family owns it…. Last I heard…”

Tracy looked around the table. “Well, I thought we were done, but I guess we could check that out. Anybody interested?”

“Janya and I can take a spin up there next week, after she’s done at the center. She can put in a little more time behind the wheel.” Wanda popped the last piece of roti into her mouth. “Dang, this is good. You’ll teach me how to make these puppies?” she asked Janya.

“Puppy?” Janya asked. “Like Chase? Like hush puppies?”

“Roti. That’s what you called it?”

“You may be speaking my language before you know it,” Janya said. “And yes, I will be happy to go to this place.”

“See, I figure somebody as gorgeous as Janya could get any man to talk,” Wanda said. “Wear that outfit you’ve got on today, and they’ll be fighting over you.”

Tracy pushed away from the table, as if afraid that if the food were in reach, she would be filling her plate again. “Come September, I’ll get serious about renting Herb’s cottage. I’ll have to do a few repairs, but by then the snowbirds will be looking for places, so I’m going to have to move his stuff out.”

“You going to do your kick-’em-out-the-door lease with these new folks, too?” Wanda asked.

Alice answered before Tracy could. “Sometimes that’s good.”

“Who wants to move everything they own, then pick it up and move it again two months later? At least the rest of us have stayed a while, so it hasn’t been too crazy,” Wanda said.

“Karen said I might not be here long…after I sold, you know, my house. She liked the lease.”

“Well, next time I move, it’s going to be into some spiffy gulf-side condo, with a pool and one of those cabanas where you can sit and have a tropical drink and meet a good-looking man,” Wanda said.

Tracy leaned forward to make it clear she was talking to Wanda. “Don’t you meet enough men, you know, at
work?
”

Wanda ran her thumb and forefinger across her lips, as if she were zipping them shut.