The Reluctant Matchmaker (5 page)

Read The Reluctant Matchmaker Online

Authors: Shobhan Bantwal

BOOK: The Reluctant Matchmaker
7.73Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
“No, I'm just happy to hear from you. I was feeling a bit sorry for myself.”
“How are you feeling? I mean physically.”
“Much better, thanks.”
“I'm so relieved. You had us worried, you know—especially when you slept through the entire ride to your house.”
“Did ... did Paul haul me from the ninth floor to his car?”
“No, Prajay did. He held you like you were an eight-pound baby instead of a grown woman.”
“Oh?” So Prajay had played the gallant knight again. That pleased me. Immensely.
Pinky kept talking. “Imagine my shock this morning, when Paul called me from the ninth floor and said you were flat on your back and the doctor had been called. The whole office has been talking about it since.”
“I bet. So, does everyone know what size panties I wear?”
“Instead of worrying about your foot, you're obsessing over what people think of your underwear?”
“Hey, didn't Paul tell you I was lying there with my skirt pushed all the way up to my butt?”
“Paul would never say something like that. He's worried about you.” Pinky was quiet for a moment. “But Gargi told me about how your bottom was showing.”
“I don't believe she was even there.” I thought about it. Gargi wasn't management and wouldn't have been included in that particular meeting. “One of her gossip buddies must have told her.”
“Maybe. But she seemed to know details.”
“She's probably telling her exaggerated version to everyone.” I should have known that woman would pounce on bad news like a bee on pollen.
“Don't worry. Most of the people were worried that something serious had happened to you.”
“Thanks, Pinky. It's sweet of you to try to spare my feelings. And thanks for taking such good care of me.”
“Anytime, my dear. And you know what? Prajay stopped by this afternoon to ask me if I'd heard from you.”
A delicious little thrill zigzagged through my veins. “What'd you tell him?”
“I told him I'd called your mother and that you were sleeping like a baby.”
“What did he say?”
“What is this, an inquisition?” Pinky mocked. “First you tell me you're not all dressed up to impress him, and now you want to know every word he said.”
I grinned to myself. “He did go out of his way to be nice.”
“Yes, despite the drool you left on his couch.”
“I drooled on his couch?”
“Just a little. When I went upstairs to wake you up, your mouth was open and drool was sliding out one side and onto the couch.”
“Oh, no! This is sounding worse and worse.” I could be a guaranteed winner on
America's Most Embarrassing Videos
.
“Don't worry,” clucked Pinky. “I managed to clean it up before anyone could notice, so you're safe. No stains on the couch, either. But no matter what I did, you refused to wake up. You murmured something incoherent and went back to sleep. So I just went through your purse and found your car keys myself.”
“I see you even remembered to deliver my purse and shoes to my house. I owe you one, Pinky.”
“Don't be silly.”
“So what else did Prajay say?”
“Nothing. He seemed relieved that you were okay.”
“Are you sure? When I send him a thank-you note, I want to remember every detail of what he did for me.”
“I'm sure. All he did was transport you to Paul's car.”
“Oh.” So he'd packed me into Paul's car and thought good riddance. I couldn't admit to Pinky that I was disappointed. But then, what was I expecting? Prajay Nayak was someone I'd met briefly, under weird circumstances. Despite his vehement denial, his concern for me probably stemmed from the fear of a lawsuit. Nothing personal.
And why was I so anxious about his opinion? He had this austere face and a body like an army tank. But on the other hand, he had a gentle side to him—a softer, generous side.
He had hauled me in his arms. Twice. That counted for something. Besides, I'd never dated anyone who dressed so sharply or had such gentlemanly manners.
The two men I'd dated somewhat seriously so far had turned out to be selfish and egotistical. One of them was a medical resident I'd met three years ago. He was so full of himself because he'd made it through Harvard Medical School that he thought women had to bow to him. I'd wished him good-bye and good luck after four awkward dates. He couldn't imagine why a woman who barely reached his shoulder didn't find him irresistible.
The other guy, a Konkani accountant introduced to me by my parents, had hinted that his future wife had to be modest and obedient. Neither of those adjectives even remotely described me. I broke up with him after three dates, much to my parents' disappointment. Besides, he was a lousy kisser. He'd tried to kiss me on our third and last date, and it was like being slobbered on by a Saint Bernard. Then he'd asked me if I'd enjoyed the kiss.
Compared to those two guys, Prajay Nayak came across as a nice man with a solid brain and a kind enough heart. But then, why would he throw a glance at a little pixie like me?
So imagine my surprise when the next day a dozen flame-colored roses with his get-well card arrived for me. I tried not to get too excited, because I still suspected it was the fear of a lawsuit that had prompted the gesture.
Mom was ecstatic. In her old-fashioned mind, if a single young man sent me flowers, it was with the intention of courting me. I hated to spoil her fun, so I kept my mouth shut.
Just when I thought the surprises were over, another stunning thing happened a day later. Paul called me to find out if I was in any shape to return to work on Monday, and I said, “Yes, if either you or Pinky can give me a ride. If it's not too much ... trouble?” I added hesitantly. It was an imposition, since they both lived some distance from my home.
“Guess what,” said Paul casually. “Prajay has offered to give you a ride to the office and back for the week.”
I searched my brain for a logical explanation “Why?”
“When he found out where Pinky and I lived, he offered on his own. Apparently his condo is close to your home.”
“But isn't he returning to Washington soon?” My heartbeat had crept up a notch.
“Not for a few weeks. He's taking care of business in our office at the moment.”
Of all times to have business in the local office. “I'm not sure, Paul. I don't want to inconvenience Prajay further.” The thought of riding with the king himself was exciting—but disquieting at the same time. Prajay still intimidated me somewhat. Besides, I'd embarrassed myself plenty already, and the possibility of adding to it was pretty high if I had a fifteen-minute commute each way for several days. “My dad can give me a ride.”
“Doesn't your father work around Moorestown?”
“Yes, but my father offered, and Prajay is only trying to be kind... .” It was indeed a stretch for Dad.
“Look, if I were you, I'd take Prajay's offer,” encouraged Paul. “Your house is right on his way, so it's not like he's going to be greatly inconvenienced. You can hobble around on your own now?”
“He doesn't need to carry me, if that's what you're asking.”
“Good. I'll see you Monday, then?”
“Sure. Thanks, Paul.”
When I informed Mom, she beamed. “What did I tell you? He is interested.”
“No, Mom!” I snapped. “Can't you understand that any kind of personal relationship between him and me would be ... improper?”
Mom shook her head. “If both parties are interested, it's not sexual harassment or anything. Coworkers fall in love and get married in almost every office—despite the rules.”
“We're not exactly coworkers. He's my boss. He's the boss of everybody who works at Rathnaya.” I realized I was yelling, venting my frustration on my mother. It wasn't her fault that I stood no chance with Prajay. I softened my tone. “I suspect he's going out of his way to be kind because he's afraid of a lawsuit.”
Mom's eyes widened. “How can he think that? Respectable Konkani folks don't go around suing people.” Then she turned thoughtful for a moment, and a slow smile settled over her face. “You know what? I still think fate literally threw the two of you together. Karma can be very strange at times. See, now he's sending you flowers and offering you a ride.”
I took a deep breath. Mom had to be reined in. “Don't go around thinking such things. And please, please don't say anything to anyone. This is strictly business, okay?”
“Okay.” Mom nodded, but the subtle twinkle in her eye didn't diminish. My aunts would be hearing about this soon. I knew she was itching to get her hands on the phone. Nothing I could say was likely to change Mom's way of thinking. She was making big plans to get rid of me the old-fashioned way: marry me off to the first guy who showed interest.
And she was convinced Prajay's actions were a sign of interest.
Chapter 5
I
n a way Mom was right. Fate had taken me to a company called Rathnaya and then literally put me in the path of its CEO. To that extent I did believe in karma, but I didn't for one minute think it had happened for good reasons.
I'd never even heard of Rathnaya until a year ago, when I was desperately looking for a job. I'd come across their ad for a marketing /PR manager on the Internet and applied for the position. After two interviews I'd ended up working for Paul.
At the moment, I was sitting with Mom, Dad, and Maneel in the family room, after eating a family dinner. My injured foot was propped up on the coffee table. The swelling was down, and the pain had lessened.
Mahesh was on call this weekend, like he most often was. The poor guy worked all the time.
I observed Maneel sitting cross-legged on the carpeted floor, TV remote in hand, flicking through channels. Although I'd never say this to his face, my big brother was a nice-looking guy, with Mom's lively eyes and dark, curly hair combined with Dad's sturdy build. Maneel was popular with girls.
At five-foot-ten, he wasn't exceptionally tall, but he was muscular and lean. He was also bright and earned a lot as a stockbroker. For one so young he had quite an impressive investment portfolio. Lots of matrimonial inquiries regarding Maneel came to my parents from the families of eligible girls. Maneel had been dodging them, claiming he wasn't ready for marriage yet.
I knew for a fact that Maneel was playing the field. I'd seen him flirting with girls at restaurants and popular spots where my friends and I hung out. But we Shenoy kids had our own unwritten code of honor: I'd say nothing about Maneel's girlfriends to my parents, just like he and Mahesh, although protective of me in typical brotherly fashion, didn't discuss my business with the rest of the family.
Dad looked comfortable in the recliner, reading an engineering magazine, while Mom sat at the other end of the couch I was sitting on. Her feet were tucked underneath her hip, and a phone directory sat in her lap, cushioning a piece of notepaper on which she was writing a letter to her mother. Her reading glasses were perched on her nose.
My maternal grandmother in India, my only living grandparent, didn't have access to a computer, making e-mail communication impossible. She was also hard of hearing, so the phone wasn't an option, either. As a result, my mom continued to send her old-fashioned letters. Right now, I'd bet anything Mom was giving her a full account of my accident.
As I sat there observing my family, I clearly recalled their reaction last year, after I'd announced that I'd been offered a job at a company called Rathnaya. My brothers had scoffed and teased me to no end.
“Rat-na-ya? Is that some kooky dance club?” Maneel had asked with a sneering lift of one eyebrow.
Mahesh, the tall, skinny brother, had grinned with delight. “Mom and Dad spent all that money on your Ivy League degrees, and you are going to work for an exterminator who annihilates rats?”
Shaking with annoyance, I'd faced my brothers. “For your information, Rathnaya is one of the most successful software companies in the Northeast. Not exactly Microsoft, but it has a great reputation in its niche market.”
Maneel had nodded in mock comprehension. “The niche market of the mighty Rats.”
Mahesh had grinned some more. “Mighty nerds.”
“Stop it, you two! Don't bug your sister.” My dad had dealt the boys a stern reprimand. It was generally my father who came to my rescue in such instances. Mom believed her cherubic boys could do no wrong. She intervened only if things got out of hand.
Mahesh had made little nibbling motions with his mouth to emulate a rat. “See, even Dad used the word
bug
.”
Mom had finally frowned at the boys. “Don't you two have anything better to do than tease your sister?”
“We're only trying to get a clearer understanding of Meena's new job,” they'd said with innocent expressions.
“Meena has found a good job with a great company. It's owned by two nice Indian guys, so it's a reputable business,” Mom had announced. In Mom's book of wisdom, anything done by an Indian was good, and if it was done by a male, it was near perfect. She belonged to the male-worshipping Indian sisterhood.
She had told me how thrilled she and Dad had been when their firstborn had turned out to be a boy. Then I'd come along, a disappointment—although Mom denied it vehemently. And then, as if to make up for my sorry birth, Mom and Dad had had another boy, one more precious male who could carry on the Shenoy name and legacy.
As if it weren't stressful enough to be sandwiched between the proverbial heir and the spare, I was the one born with a fussy personality.
Mom often mentioned that she was in labor for several hours before she gave birth to me. “For a tiny infant who weighed next to nothing, you gave me hell,” she'd said. “Maneel and Mahesh were big, but quick and easy. A few major contractions, and they were out—just like that,” she'd added.
“It's not my fault, is it?” I'd whined. “You and Dad planned on having kids, so you can't complain about the resulting aches and pains.”
Mom's expression had softened when reminded of the plain fact that bringing children into the world was a decision made by adults. “I'm not complaining, dear. We wanted you, and we love you,” she'd declared. “But you were so fussy and colicky. You just refused to eat.”
“Don't forget the recurring ear infections, Mom,” Maneel had prompted.
I'd been tempted to put my hands around Maneel's manly neck and squeeze. He loved adding to Mom's dramatic recollections of what an unpleasant baby I had been, although he had only been two years old at the time of my birth.
“Well, it's too bad I'm still here to make your life miserable, isn't it?” I'd snapped back.
“I didn't mean it in a bad way.” Mom had added that conciliatory remark after one of those reflective walks down memory lane and my subsequent hurt reaction to her comments. On the other hand, she always seemed to carry sweet memories of my brothers' early days. “Such good babies they were. Except for the usual chicken pox and the occasional cold or flu, the boys were no problem.”
“So you're saying you've forgotten the incident when Maneel drove your brand new Mercedes into the Goldmans' pool when he was fifteen,” I'd said with a saccharine smile. “And what about the time Mahesh dropped out of ninth grade and ran away from home to join a rock band?”
Naturally Mom had pretended not to remember any such occasions, and Maneel and Mahesh had claimed those episodes were no more than youthful indiscretions.
“If dangerous actions as a teenager are ‘youthful indiscretions, ' then ear infections and alleged anorexia before the age of six are not even matters for discussion, are they?” I'd countered.
Fortunately Dad, my sole defender, had admonished the boys. Better yet, he'd clearly remembered the boys' antics. “My auto insurance didn't skyrocket and the police didn't have to conduct a search-and-rescue operation because Meena had an ear infection,” he'd declared, with a final glower that shut the boys up—at least temporarily. Even Mom had quieted down for a bit.
It had been my turn to grin in triumph. I was my dad's favorite, and he almost always came to my rescue—my knight in shining armor. He'd apparently carried me in his arms and sung lullabies to me during my notorious sleepless, colicky days.
I had vivid early memories of Dad reading to me when I was a toddler and soothing me in the middle of the night when I'd gone through my many childhood illnesses. More than my mother, it had been my father who'd provided me with comfort when I'd most needed it. Even now, he fussed over me when she didn't.
But Mom freely acknowledged that I was better looking than she. That was the one concession she made. “You were a lovely baby, Meena. You're the image of my mother, the same fair complexion, big eyes, and perfect nose. You have her silky brown hair, too.” However, the rueful clucking sound would follow. “I had hoped you'd grow taller than Amma, but you never grew beyond five feet.”
Naturally, my brothers had grown to decent heights, but I was the midget, probably from having eschewed food in my growing years.
Well, I had to admit things weren't all that bad for me. At least Mom and Dad didn't make me feel unwanted. I was given the same privileges as the boys.
They loved me. There was no doubt about that—but that subtle difference in their approach to raising us was always present.
The boys were investments in the future, while I was more like a hothouse plant, meant to be nurtured until they could find me a decent husband and give me a reasonable sendoff by way of marriage. But that was the Indian way, so I didn't complain.
Since Dad was an engineer and Mom was an obstetrician/ gynecologist with a healthy practice, I never lacked good clothes and other little luxuries. I even drove a snazzy silver Mustang on which they'd made the down payment.
But despite all his support, Dad was still very strict with me when it came to curfews and dating and such. He couldn't understand my choice of career either. “Marketing and public relations? What kind of occupation is that?” he had asked with a puzzled frown when I'd picked my courses at Cornell.
“It's the right choice for me, Dad,” I'd replied with an impatient sigh.
“Such a waste of your talents. You're good at math and science.”
“But I have to struggle to do well in those subjects,” I'd explained. “The analytical part of my brain is no bigger than a peanut. But my creative side works just fine, and I'd prefer to use that.”
“That's nonsense. If you tried harder you could do anything.”
In Dad's mind there were only a handful of careers for sensible, middle-class folks like us: engineering, medicine, law, accounting, scientific research, and computer science. He'd been pleased with Mahesh's choice of medicine as an occupation but a bit upset about Maneel's undergrad in finance and then the MBA—until Maneel had started to rake in an above-average income. Then Maneel had started to invest Dad and Mom's savings aggressively, and they were showing healthy gains.
All of a sudden, Maneel was Dad's golden boy. Dad couldn't get enough investment advice from his smart son.
Now I was not only the little runt, but I was also the one with a silly profession, little more than a glorified clerk. Mom of course had dismissed me as a clone of her mother, small and reasonably bright, but not motivated, and therefore good wife-and-mother material to some man who'd be astute enough to recognize my potential.
Mom didn't say it in so many words, but I could see the disappointment in her eyes. Her two sisters were medical doctors like her, also living in the U.S. and in successful practices. She had to have had high hopes for her kids, and yet, only one child was following in her footsteps.
But then Maneel, although not a doctor, was a cherished male child, so he was easily forgiven. I had a feeling Mom was secretly hoping to marry him off to a doctor so Maneel's life would become more balanced.
“Is this Nayak fellow going to offer you a ride every day or just one day?” asked my father, interrupting my thoughts and pulling me back into the moment. A young, single man offering his daughter a ride was of obvious concern.
“I'm not sure, Dad, but Paul seems to think the offer stands until I'm back on my feet. I'm hoping I'll be able to drive myself in a few days.” Seeing my father's troubled look, I added, “I have a feeling Prajay Nayak is being extra nice so I won't think about suing him.” I didn't want Dad worrying about what would happen to his virgin daughter—little did he know—in the hands of a young man who'd have her to himself for a few minutes in his car.
Maneel stopped playing with the remote for a moment to offer his opinion. “A lawsuit is something to think about, Meena. Just drop a hint or two that you've talked to a lawyer. Any time this Nayak guy wants to fire you or get fresh with you, you can hold that over his head.”
I threw Maneel a dark look. “All you think of is money. I'm just glad to have a job. Marketing and PR positions are rare, so I'm grateful to Prajay for doing all this for me.” I put on my most righteous expression. “I'd never hold a lawsuit over anyone's head—especially a guy who's going out of his way to be kind.”
“PR jobs being rare is right,” said Dad. “That's what happens when you choose some obscure career instead of something sensible like engineering or accounting.”
Mom lent him her enthusiastic support. “Medicine is even better. Doctors never have to face layoffs as long as there are sick and pregnant people in the world.”
I grimaced at Mom. “Medicine is too icky for me.”
“Icky? It's the noblest profession.” Mom looked thoroughly insulted.
“Nothing personal, Mom, but not all of us are cut out to work with ovaries and uteruses,” I argued. “And then, on top of that, you get sued if a baby's born abnormal.” My mother had been named in a lawsuit some years ago, when the parents of a malformed child had blamed her for it.

Other books

Key West by Stella Cameron
And Then One Day: A Memoir by Shah, Naseeruddin
Forget Me Knot by King, Lori
La huella de un beso by Daniel Glattauer
Shorts: The Furry Years by John Van Stry
The Plot Against Hip Hop by Nelson George
Breathe Me by Alexia Purdy