“Cost?” Mallu Masi said. “You think I’m going to charge my own niece for her lehenga? It hasn’t come to that yet!”
I fist-pumped just out of the camera frame, startling Yogi. I had been hoping she’d say that. But it was a relief nonetheless. Vinnie could have a gorgeous Bollywood-style lehenga—for free!
“Thanks… Mallu Masi,” I said.
“No problem, Mini,” she said. “Just tell me when you need it. Did you look at the link to the latest bridal line I sent you? Which one does Vinnie like?”
Shayla and I had spent a half hour looking at the bridal line and being shocked at the insane prices.
“I’ll send you a short list of lehengas to pull,” I said. “I’d love to see her in the A-line lehenga on page four. She doesn’t think she’ll like gold, but she’d look totally hot in it, if you ask me.” I stopped for a second—no point getting all excited in front of Masi.
“She will,” Masi concurred. “Good choice, beta. That lehenga was actually featured in a movie recently. I do have one or two pieces left I could have fitted for her.”
Funny that we were sympatico on this when I couldn’t remember ever having a grown-up conversation with her—about anything.
“Then her bridesmaids could wear saris too, in a complementary color—it’ll look so nice in all the pictures,” I said.
“Aren’t you the bridesmaid?” Masi asked.
“Yes,” I said, “but you can have multiple bridesmaids here. People do—all the time. She has friends from high school she wants to include.”
“American girls?” Mallu Masi said. “You sure they’ll wear saris? Who’s going to tie it for them?”
I suppressed a flash of annoyance. “I will,” I said.
“You know how to tie a sari?” she asked.
“It’s not that hard,” I said, feeling defensive. “When I was nine Mom taught my whole Girl Scout troop how to tie them. I’m pretty good, actually.”
“Oh!” she said. “And Vinnie?”
“Vinnie never learned,” I said. “She was too busy with sports and studies to do Girl Scouts.”
“One time I came to visit,” Masi said, “and your house was full of cookie boxes. Hundreds of them.”
“Mom was cookie mom that year,” I said. The memory almost made me smile. “We had to sort them out and collect the money for the whole troop.”
“I should have just stayed in New York,” Masi said. “She had no time for me and I put on two kilos from eating those things. Caramel deLites, no? They were good!”
Mom had no time for her? That was rich coming from the sister who didn’t even visit Mom on her deathbed. I fumed inwardly but bit my tongue.
“I remember, Masi,” I said with a tight smile. “Can we talk next week when Vinnie gets here?”
“Of course we can. But you know, Mini,” she said, “the best thing would be if she came down here for a fitting. That’s the right way to get a custom fit.”
“She can’t do it, Masi,” I said. “But don’t worry, I’ve taken the measurements very carefully. And if something needs fixing we can get it altered here. But we need it here in good time to do that.”
“Okay,” she said. Someone appeared at her elbow and put down a tea set. The kind in period dramas, with a pot in a tea cozy, and a fine bone china teacup and saucer. And a creamer and sugar bowl. “One sugar,” she said absentmindedly to the person next to her; I could only see the torso.
“What about you, Mini?” she said. “What will you wear for the wedding?”
“I haven’t thought about it, Masi,” I said. There wouldn’t be enough money left for a pair of shoes after we were done, to be honest. Forget about a full wedding-worthy outfit.
“I can pick something out for you,” she said. “Something that will complement Vinnie’s look but not overshadow it.” Her face brightened up. “In fact, I have just the thing for you, Mini.”
“No, really, it’s okay,” I said. The whole thing was awkward. What if she picked out something hideous and I was stuck wearing it? “You don’t need to bother.”
“No, no,” she said. “What size are you? Same as Vinnie?”
“No, I’m about five inches—” I said. Her cell phone rang.
“—bigger? Got it,” she cut in, glancing at her cell phone. “I have to go, beta. Sooo sorry. But I have to take this call. That’s the waist size, right? Lehengas are free-size anyhow, so it should fit if it’s in the range. Okay, done!”
The screen flickered off.
“Five inches taller,” I said to the empty screen.
I felt drained. I flipped down the lid of my laptop and punched the air. Arrgh! Why does she get under my skin? Why is she so… Both my hands formed into fists.
Who knew what old junk she was going to send me? She did have good taste, though, however irritating and preoccupied she was. Truthfully, I was a teeny bit excited to see what she could possibly think was perfect for me.
The day of the British car show dawned sunny and clear.
Dad was relieved because he didn’t like to take the Lotus out in the rain. We headed out to Brookline right after breakfast. Yogi and I stuck our heads out the window as we flew down Route 9—our hair (or fur in his case) flapping in the wind.
The Larz Anderson Auto Museum has the feel of a castle on a hill. It’s a stone building overlooking a vast green park with an outstanding view of the Boston skyline. I’d been to these car shows many, many times with Dad, but it was always fun to ride over to the showground in Dad’s Lotus, even with Yogi stuffed beside me into the passenger seat. You’re ridiculously low to the ground, and the engine
