“I don’t,” he said. “But I’m guessing that MassBot is not, as it sounds, a robot of some sort.”
“What?” I said. “No! It stands for Massachusetts Botanical Society. It’s right by Fellsway College.”
I gave him the time when Vinnie and I were meeting with Shoma Aunty, Sondhi Sr. of Curry Cuisine, and Jen Courtney of MassBot.
“Okay, then,” he said. “I’ll see you Tuesday!”
I was smiling as I hung up.
Chapter Eleven
My sister was finally coming home!
I hummed a happy tune as I drove down to the airport to get her. Yes, me—all by myself, all the way to Logan Airport. And why was I even allowed to do this after my last driving debacle, you ask? Because Dad was in meetings all day long, and unless he wanted her to take the Logan Express Bus Service to Framingham, or pay for a taxi, there was no one to get her but moi.
Only, this time Dad had made sure I was prepared. Gas tank? Full. GPS? Functioning. Cell phone? Charged. Mass. Pike E-ZPass? Velcroed to my windshield. I was good to go.
I didn’t feel guilty about leaving Yogi at home either, because he’d be psyched when I got home with Vinnie. Not that we were planning on hanging out at home for too long. We had to hit the ground running—there was a ton of wedding stuff to cover in the three days she was there. The best part would be taking her back to River Bend—I couldn’t wait to show her the gorgeous Carriage House!
I made it to Logan without screwing up, and also backed into a super-tight spot in central parking without incident—huzzah! Vinnie had told me to park so I wouldn’t get stressed about trying to spot her on the curb and find a place to pull over. She was waiting by the baggage carousel, even though she had no baggage.
“Mini!” She grabbed me in a bear hug. “I’m getting married!”
“Vinnie!” I hugged back as we hopped in excitement, arms locked. “I know!”
People were staring at us, but I didn’t really care and neither did Vinnie. We didn’t have to wait for bags—she just had a carry-on—so we were out of the airport in no time.
Sadly, she didn’t seem to share Dad’s confidence in my driving abilities.
“Slow. Down,” she said. “I want to live to see my wedding day. And have babies and stuff.”
“Hey, I drive well,” I protested.
“You drive way too fast,” she said. “Now slow the hell down. Or stop and let me drive.”
“Okay, okay.” I eased off the gas. Jeez! “Relax, I’m doing the legal, I promise!”
She unclutched her fingers from around her armrest.
“So what are we doing today?” she asked.
“We’re talking to Masi to pick out your wedding outfit,” I started. Might as well get the worst part over first. “Then tomorrow evening we have an appointment with the caterer, the wedding decorator, and the DJ/lighting dude at River Bend. And the Dover fire marshal is coming too.”
She didn’t know about Vir being the DJ/lighting guy. She didn’t know about Vir, period. What would she think of him?
“Mini, if it weren’t for you, Manish and I would be getting married in our scrubs in the hospital parking lot or something,” she said. “Seriously, thanks for doing this!”
“Aww.” I smiled. “You’re welcome!”
“And-watch-out-for-the-car-in-your-blind-spot-before-changing-lanes!”
“Okay, okay… don’t panic!” I said, and did a head check.
“Why is the fire marshal coming?” she asked after I switched lanes and got off at the exit.
“Because there’s a fire at the wedding ceremony,” I reminded her. “The fire department has to okay it. Also, we might want to get a dosa chef to make fresh dosas for your TamBrahms.”
“Why?” she said. “Won’t that cost extra?”
“Not much more,” I said. “We have some South Indian dishes on the menu anyway, so why not dosas too?”
“They really like Punjabi food, actually,” Vinnie said.
“Good, then let’s have Sher-e-Punjab cater,” I said. “They’re cheaper anyway.”
“Who?” Vinnie asked.
“Another restaurant,” I said. “Look, it’s fine. Dad’s already okayed it. We also have to meet the mehendi lady and the bridal makeup lady, and pick out the flowers and wedding garlands.”
“Also, we’re meeting the Iyers tomorrow,” she said.
“The IYERS?” I said. “You mean Manish’s parents? I didn’t know we were seeing them.”
“They invited us to lunch after Manish gets here tomorrow morning,” she said. “I think it’s time we all met properly.”
“Okay,” I said. “We have a lot to do tomorrow, then. You should have warned me about the Iyers so I could have prepared Dad.”
“What’s the use?” she said. “He’s determined not to like them. Hey, how’s Yogi?” she asked.
“See for yourself,” I said, because we were pulling into our driveway and there was a frantic dog at the front door, who knew via some finely honed canine instinct that the second-most-important girl in his world was home.
It was midmorning in Massachusetts and evening in Mumbai. The pink glow of the sunset over the Arabian Sea lit up Mallu Masi’s office windows, even on our computer screen. She must have a kick-ass webcam on her computer because Zoom was never that clear. Mallu Masi herself was dressed in linen capris and a kurti shirt in pale green, and looked as cool as a cucumber. She was also smiling a lot more today because Vinnie, her favorite niece, was here to chat with her.
“Vinnie, beta, congratulations!” she said. “You’re ready to see the lehengas we pulled?” Why did she always talk so loudly? Like she thought the webcam wasn’t picking up her voice or something.
“Yes!” Vinnie said, all excited. “Thanks for pulling them, Masi!”
“I’ve an assistant, Ria, who’s about your size—Mini sent me your measurements. The models were all too tall,” Masi said. “Ria is going to try the lehengas on so you can see how they look worn.”
“That’s awesome!” Vinnie said. “Let’s go, I can’t wait!”
“Okay, here’s lehenga number one,” Masi muttered at someone off-camera, and the webcam was expertly trained on
