“Whoa!” Vir had stepped on the dog’s trailing leash, bringing her to an abrupt halt, more by accident than design, and grabbed my canvas with his other hand.
How fabulous was he?
“Good save!” I said.
“Shadow!” The owner came into view at a flying run. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
Vir handed her the leash, adding a firm request to keep that “blasted beast” under control in future.
She had dragged Shadow out of sight before I saw the damage to my easel. One of the legs was completely destroyed!
“No!” I crumpled to the ground where the splintered wood from the easel’s leg lay, looking totally and irreparably smashed.
“Is it expensive?” Vir asked. “That woman should pay for it, you know.”
I spread my fingers helplessly, at a loss for words.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
It was all too much! I wrapped my arms around myself and burst into tears.
“Hey, hey.” Vir put a heavy arm around me. “It’s okay, it’s just a… stand or whatever. You can replace it, can’t you?”
“No,” I said fiercely. “I CAN’T.”
“Okay,” Vir said. “Then… we’ll fix it.”
“You can’t fix that!” The tears came fast and furious and I couldn’t talk at all. Yogi’s whining brought me back. “It’s okay, Yogi, the bad dog’s gone.”
“It’s special somehow, isn’t it?” Vir asked. “Your stand?”
“I got it on my thirteenth birthday,” I said. “From my mother.” The tears started up again.
To his credit, Vir thought it through before speaking.
“You said your mother died when you were ten,” he said. “Do I have it wrong?”
“No,” I said, wiping my nose on my sleeve. “She bought it before she died and asked Dad to give it to me on my thirteenth birthday.”
“Wow,” Vir said, putting an arm around me. “That’s definitely irreplaceable.”
“She did that a lot,” I said. “She even bought a doctor’s-bag-style handbag for Vinnie’s med school graduation. Dad kept it locked up all these years and we gave it to her in May. It looks cool even now—in a vintage kind of way.”
I stopped on a hiccup, aware that I was babbling.
“Wow!” Vir said, as if handbags were the kind of thing that wowed him normally.
“And she designed some amazing gold jewelry for Vinnie’s wedding,” I said. “That’s why I want the wedding to be perfect. She’s not around to do it, but someone should, right?”
“Right,” Vir said. “She loved you both a lot, clearly.”
“Uh-huh,” I said. And then I didn’t speak for a while, just sat there on the grass with Vir and Yogi next to me.
“I can fix it, you know,” Vir said. “Bit of wood glue, and some screws and splints—piece of cake.”
“Really?” I said.
“Yeah,” he said. We picked up the pieces together and put them into my easel carry case. “It won’t look exactly the same, but it’ll stand, I promise.”
I kind of believed it would.
Chapter Sixteen
Vinnie never sent the email to her bridesmaids about the saris.
She had a whole week of double shifts—what were they trying to do? Turn her into a physician, or kill her?—but I had the names and addresses from the guest list so I called and emailed until they were all on board. Except for Nahid, one of Vinnie’s medical school friends who was a resident at MGH now, who didn’t love it but said she’d wear it anyway, they all approved of the sari we liked—a wine-red silk with a thin gold border—and they insisted on paying for them. In a week, the saris had arrived, and most of them came over to be fitted for blouses.
The good thing about custom blouses was each girl could pick a design that suited her. Someone wanted spaghetti straps, others cap sleeves or a simple sleeveless blouse. I was happy to give them the cut they wanted—but it took a big chunk of time out of my summer, even if I did one or two a week.
I was especially psyched when Nahid, the one who didn’t like the sari at first, said she liked how she looked in it.
“I was just afraid of all that material, you know,” she said. “Ammi tried to teach me how to drape it but I’ve never gotten the hang of it. Just don’t expect me to wear it on my own!”
“It’s easy,” I said. “If we pin the pleats at the right spot for each of you, and you practice a bit—you’ll get it. But you don’t have to. I’ll help you the day of the wedding.”
“I’ll give it a try…,” Nahid said. “I’m turning, I’m tucking, I’m flinging—okay—how does it look?”
Success! With some practice, they were all getting the sari on themselves. Whew! For a minute I thought we’d have to buy these Eazy Pleats magnetic clips they kept advertising on the bridesmaids’ sari websites I’d been frequenting! Can you believe such a thing exists? Honestly, you should be able to make a pleat on your own—especially if you actually own a sari to practice on. They teach you to fanfold in kindergarten, for heaven’s sake. Still, I admit, I had to send Vinnie a link. Let’s face it—she never got the fanfold thing in kindergarten either.
The caller ID said Private but it was Vir.
“Hey,” he said. “You haven’t been to the lake lately. What’s up?”
His voice sounded so close, so deep. “I’ve been busy with the bridesmaids’ outfits—for the wedding.”
“You’re making them yourself?” he asked.
“Just the blouses,” I said. “I’m nearly done. Just two left to complete, but the girls they are for are out of state, so it’ll have to wait. When they get here I can do an in-person fitting and finish up.”
“Have you been painting at all?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “No time!”
“Come over to the lake and finish that painting,” Vir said. “I promise I’ll keep a watch out for the poodle.
